Harlequin: A Fool's World Novel
by Clayton Overstreet
Summary: In a world where the concept of democracy never caught on, jesters can still make fun of a king, but they have to earn it. Castle Joy is the premier school for fools and if you graduate you get a license to do anything you want. Provided of course you survive. Despite being sent against her will our main character soon learns the ropes. But behind the scenes there are plots afoot.
1. Chapter 1

This is a chapter from the book "Harlequin: A Fool's World Novel" By Clayton Overstreet which is being published here for promotional reasons. It is available complete from Amazon and its affiliates in book format. If you do not want to wait for me to post the next chapter, have a problem with the formatting as it appears on this website, and would like to support me so that I can have the time and money needed to write more, I strongly suggest you buy it. I do own these characters and would like to seriously profit from them. This book is however private property, I own the copyright to the story and characters, and I would appreciate it if you did not disseminate it to other people. I can't stop you, I know, but I'd really prefer if you would just buy the book, even if you read the whole story here. Legal action however will be taken for plagiarism.

◊ Harlequin ◊

A Fool's World Novel

By, Clayton Overstreet

 _This book is dedicated to all the rule breakers out there, especially the ones who got away with it. The guys who write dictionaries know who I'm talking about. Where_ do _you get the spelling? I before E my butt!_

I wish to goodness we had a few fools left.

––––––Oscar Wilde

This fellow's wise enough to play the fool,

And to do that well craves a kind of wit.

He must observe their mood, on whom he jests,

The quality of persons and the time,

And like the haggard, check at every feather that comes before his eye.

This is a practice as full of labor as a wise man's art;

For folly that he wisely shows is fit,

But wise men, folly fallen, quite taint their wit.

–––––– The Man Who Wrote Shakespeare's Plays _Twelfth Night *_

 ***Note:** My spelling and grammar checker says that the above quote is flawed. Since it is a quote

from Shakespeare you may see the humor in this.

 **Table Of Contents**

 **Afterward** Page 7

 **Chapter 2** Page 456

 **Chapter 1** Page 23

 **Chapter 23** Page -275

 **Chapter 3** Page 2

 **Chapter 15** Page 1456 Subsection 3 Paragraph 9Zii

 **Chapter 4** Turn to page 311, then 5, turn the book upside down, and then turn to page 64

 **Chapter 9** Stand on your head under a full moon and recite "Heyam Annie Dyot" five times as fast as you can

 **Page 37** Chapter 50 ½ %

 **Chapter 3656.9847512763746** Page 53439678 "How to tell when someone has made up a fake table of contents" or "Are you actually still looking at this page?"

 **Introduction** Page 123 & 666

 **The Other History**

Everything happens somewhere.

As you are no doubt aware there is not one universe, but an unknown and possibly infinite number. It is speculated that each time something happens or a choice is made it splits off into even more worlds like the branches of a tree, as every possibility is played out. Many of these universes are identical to ours save for a fallen leaf, a word said, or a war fought. Others are unimaginably different ranging from minor changes such as humans never existing at all to completely different sets of physical laws.

The world in which our story takes place is one of the ones that are close enough to ours for people to exist, but with more differences than a falling leaf. For the purposes of this narrative we will call it Fool's World. Not because it has more fools than us. In fact you would be hard pressed to find one resident who would think of their world as belonging to fools, aside perhaps for the fools themselves. Yet as we trace back along their history we find the key difference, the point in which their world and ours parted company.

In our world the British Empire had a civil war in which Oliver Cromwell took over for a time and in his puritan way did away with the practice of court jesters. Fools whose job it was to keep the kings humble and provoke new ways of thinking as well as to entertain. Though many felt that their job was just as entertainment and possibly if the fools of Charles I had been more focused on the other parts of their duties the civil war may have never happened in the first place. After the Restoration Charles II did not reinstate the tradition, though he found a particular actor named Thomas Killgrew particularly enthralling and allowed him to get away with making fun of many important people. Elsewhere in much of Europe the tradition mostly died out.

In Fool's World he instead hired Killgrew as his personal fool. Later when Oliver Cromwell and many of his followers, along with a lot of their enemies, were killed in the war and ultimately they lost allowing a small surviving branch of the royal family, the Bowes-Lyons, to retain the throne. The Bowes-Lyons had fools of their own and kept the tradition going. These are just a few of many differences between that world and the one you know.

For a start in Fool's World democracy never really caught on. Oh America still broke away from England and gave it a try, but not over taxes. The King at the time, Andrew III, had not levied quite so many tariffs or done quite as many infuriating things as the king on our world. It's just that colonies tend to break away and everyone wants to be a king. The differences that resulted between our worlds would take a lifetime to describe in detail, but suffice to say that in their America there are currently Thirty-Seven United States/Kingdoms, each ruled by its own queen or king and with nobles under them, chosen originally from among the common people who showed their metal in the war for independence. These kings and queens all are under the auspices of an emperor.

Not just white people either. Fools came to America (often banished by or in hiding from some outraged noble) and met those of the natives in their funny clothes and with their strange tricks. They found other fools among the tribes, such as the heyoka of the Lakota or the dwarf jesters who served Montezuma, and showed everyone that they were not so different after all. There were fights, but it is hard to have a war when there are clowns on both sides mocking those who fight only over superficial differences like skin color or whether they wear clothing. Gold of course was another story.

Similarly in Europe wars that on our world were fought over such differences found themselves tempered and those who fought them chastened by the barbs of the fools. Christian priests, including the popes, found their sermons heckled by men they were not allowed to touch who asked irritating questions like "how did they feed the lions if there were only seven zebras?" and "why?" Questions like that lodge into the minds of the more serious parishioner, who insist on answers. This sped up the progress of science as well, the honorable fool Christopher Columbus having already proven that the world was round. People who look for answers often find them and by the seventeen hundreds the world had a level of technology a hundred years ahead of ours. This also led to the freeing of slaves and a continuous pursuit of new technology rather than short bursts pushed forward by wars.

Christianity lost a bit of the stranglehold it had enjoyed before and older religions popped up again. Though the fact that Christians were unlikely to be picked out of the crowd and strapped to an altar and got a day of rest every week did keep them very popular and led the rest away from human sacrifice as well. Some fool pointed out that, for the gods, religion was somewhat similar to the stalking enjoyed by famous singers and nobody really enjoyed having their fans building shrines and throwing themselves at the singer's feet while cutting out their own hearts. Faith was still important, especially since there were so many things scientists still could never explain, but it was understood by most that this needed to be tempered by logic and the assumption that if a higher power started speaking to you, it was wise to seek a doctor's help _before_ climbing to the top to the water tower and shooting the "infidels".

As for bigotry, while not eliminated that too was taken down to levels most of our civilized world did not reach until the late twentieth century. Hating someone for their skin color or even sexual orientation took second place to the hatred felt for the fool with the green-painted face currently dressed up as your favorite person (perhaps the pope or your wife or even you) and amorously mounting a sheep in full view of authorities while everyone either laughed and you were unable to do anything about it. Denying women rights was stupid when the fool could be a man dressed in lady's clothes, a woman in drag, or you were unable to tell what they were under the makeup. With their royal supporters a female fool, safely hidden behind their masks and makeup, could retaliate against a man who beat his wife or sexually harassed someone in ways that would make them long for such treatment themselves rather than what the jester might come up with to amuse the gentry and likewise teach them lessons on how to treat women.

In retaliation a person might hire their own fool to make fun of the owner of the fool who made fun of them. The fools became weapons of society as well as a status symbol. Who had the funniest? The most outlandish? The Duke of Cornwall's fool suggests that the Spanish King's wife blows the horses in the stable? Well the Spanish King's fool coincidentally finds that the Duke's Mother gang-bangs a dozen Moors on cold moonless nights (knights?) while the Pope watches and blesses the union. Tempers rise, yet nobody is stupid enough to believe they can make their armies fight and die over the jest of a fool. It would be like watching Hamlet performed and being outraged at the implications on the monarchy, thus identifying themselves with the evil king who watches the play within the play and is horrified as it shows his own misdeeds.

Likewise the people of Fool's World are more environmentally conscious than us. In addition to fools, and possibly to help with their acts, animals are often required. What king, some say, is complete without their own menagerie of rare animals? A fool in Germany had a dozen trained Dodo birds gifted him by his queen and trained them to form a pyramid on one another's backs. At the same time the scientists discovered things like solar and wind power early, freeing children from work houses and eliminating most fossil and other soot causing fuels before they were used much for machinery in the first place. Everyone who was smart enough to crack nuclear power had also been smart enough to see that building let alone using such a device was a fool's errand. By the time enough scientists could have done it the technology had become rendered obsolete as a power source by more stable and less polluting types and no one had ever suggested the idea of using it as a weapon. Add in the understanding relationships among Native Americans, African tribes, Asian Priests, Aborigines, and other cultures that might or might not start with "A" that live in harmony with nature and while Fool's World has its problems, it is a lot more clean and natural than the one we grew up in. In today's time Fool's World has a world population of roughly three and a half billion people and aside from the massive forests between them a town or city would not appear all that different from one of ours, if cleaner.

As said before Democracy never caught on. Fools pointed out that not only did it revolve around what was basically a popularity contest, but people in such a government could pass on responsibility, do their job for a limited time and then retire without consequence of their action, and that there was nothing in the rules to keep complete morons from running or voting. In a monarchy you may have problems with the queen or king's decision, but if the royalty screwed up too bad an angry populace with torches and pitchforks knew who to blame and what to do to fix it, as demonstrated by the French rebellion. France overthrew some royals, but without America for an example and with a few fools around to keep the royalty humble, more than a few escaped the guillotine and even saw the rebels' point. Every country is different of course, but most of them at least developed a system of checks and balances as kings balanced their power against keeping their heads.

Meanwhile the fools went on, but not as obviously as you might think. They were no different than doctors, lawyers, or any other profession. Oh some had certain mystical connections and others did deeds that made history, but no more than any king, lawyer, actor, or stock broker. You might see them capering at court, clowning in a circus, wrangling at the rodeo, performing at birthday parties, as mascots, or even begging on the street, but the average person would see them as no different than any other noble, performer, cowboy, or bum.

Some fools got jobs in corporations working for rich men who wanted the same benefits as kings. This had been going on a very long time since the days when even privateers would have a fool on board ship and woe betide their captured enemies who would suddenly be the fool's "captive audience". Some are performers on stage, screen, circus, or street. Others work among priests, from the pope to those who run the Hindu, Shinto, Taoist, and Buddhist temples of the east, the Voodoo and Shamanic religions of the South and West, and much more.

By the eighteen hundreds the tradition to not harm a fool had been imprinted in everyone's head until two things happened in 1870 that changed that. First was a bombing of the Tower of London, by a fool known as Jolly Jackson on Guy Fawkes' Day. He claimed he wanted to see if it was true that England would fall if the crows really left the tower and, as he said, it was not like the royal family was wearing the jewels. England did not fall, but he was hung for killing thirteen people in his little joke. Less than a month later the Queen of England at the time, emboldened by the foolish disaster perpetrated by Jolly Jack, had her personal fool Nagging Natalie (one of the first openly female fools) beheaded when, as a joke, she hung her highness's rather lewd under things out of the royal bedroom window in full view of the public.

The world was split on how to respond. The position of fool was a sacred trust, seen as a mystical connection to the gods. They were _meant_ to shake up the world. To keep people from getting complacent. Had not Foolish Freddy averted a war between Japan and Denmark by blowing his own brains out with a laugh at the foot of the emperor's throne? Did not Sooty Sarah lead a parade of cross-dressers on the castle of the Swedish King to demand fair treatment for all under the law regardless of sexuality? Naturally everyone remembered how the Dodgy Dane, mime extraordinaire, invented the gyroscope for his tilting tightrope unicycle bit and that the same device had been a benefit to many other machines used every day for a variety of useful purposes!

At the same time, were they to let the fools run wild? Could anyone put on a bit of makeup and commit murder? Disrupt foreign policies? Convince young children to dance in traffic and experiment with dangerous drugs just because they wanted to?

So a compromise was reached. Men needed to be trained to be doctors. To operate heavy machinery and automobiles. To fight wars and use weapons. To be a lawyer or judge. Fools spent time among the leaders of the world. They were allowed to advise them at times. Consort with their enemies during negotiations. And ultimately whatever they did, they were supposed to be able to do it without consequence, even if it meant airing dirty (and from the tales a mix of leathery and lacy) laundry of even those most powerful without fear or reprisal. Because nobody else, including the royals themselves, could.

The first Fool School was opened in England in 1872. There young people who either volunteered or were chosen to be fools, could go to learn and practice. The school grounds were considered foreign soil, like an embassy, and responsible for themselves. If it caught fire they damned well had better be able to put it out themselves because nobody else was allowed to help. (It has in fact caught fire many times, but fortunately was built on an old stone castle and has since been fire proofed as best as possible. Experience has shown that nothing is completely fool proof.) They had to employ their own doctors, staff, and teachers. Most of them fools who retired from active duty due to accident, injury, or whatever.

More schools soon followed in every country. Each has its own traditions and teaches them to the students, if only because one must know what a tradition is and the rules are in order to defy it. Many of the students in such places, even in modern times, suffer grievous injuries and often die. If they complete it they are issued an official Fool's License.

Not that anyone in the world is required to pass a test to tell a joke or even dress up as a clown. There are professional comedians and performers who will never see the inside of one of those schools. Who are loved and famous for being jesters, clowns, and fools. Stand up comedians are as plentiful in Fool's World as here. Pie fights happen.

So what, you may ask, is the point?

Well a Fool's License, a real one, protects an _official_ fool. There are countries in which a man who dresses like a woman or a woman who so much as defies a man can still be stoned to death. Where to speak a word against their ruler or his nobles and minions is treason. While most monarchs are fairly easy going about such things, not caring if they get a jab from their subjects every now and then, some take their position quite seriously.

A licensed fool can walk through such a place unmolested. They could walk up to the ruler's wife and kiss or boff her in full view of all, be the fool man or woman, and according to the law agreed to by most countries, said ruler would be required to do nothing to them or the wife. True they might anyway and many a fool has died doing something like that, but they would have to think about it first because the world court would be convened and the ruler would be tried. If said fool actually forced themselves on the woman he might merely be censured or fined. If the court deems that it was merely a joke or was not forced, he can be removed from power, his assets seized, and should he defy the decision his country would be the target of all others until he was deposed and his lands divided. It has happened three times in the last century.

That means that every leader naturally wants only a licensed fool. To the rich they are a luxury. To a politician having a licensed fool on their payroll is a necessity. If only to counter another fool. Often it backfires, as they are also subject to the fool's whims and jests. A fool's license is a license to kill, to destroy, to disrupt life and cause chaos. They do not even have to be funny. It also does not hurt that if a fool agrees to a contract of their own will they have to follow it, especially if there are clauses allowing their employers to beat, silence, trade them to other employers like property, or otherwise chastise them. Negotiations over that and the fool's pay/benefits package are often quite complex as well as how far they are allowed to push their employers. It depends on if the fool thinks they can survive in the world without a pay check. Some turn to a life of crime, using their immunity to pull off thefts, murders, or more if they get caught. Though sometimes if the crime was done in the right way, such as when one widely despised king was assassinated with a balloon elephant, a cream pie, and a monkey they let the killer off with a warning.

Which is why not only are there highly specific requirements to earn the license, there are also severe penalties for misusing it. In order to get such a license a fool must complete their training to the satisfaction of their teachers. They are put through their paces and strenuously tested. Many quit. Some kill themselves. A few fail and apply to different schools. Others go their whole lives and never pass. It's just like law school, medical school, and so on.

On completion of the school's requirements (which vary between institutions) once a year the local lords and ladies are invited to the graduation ceremony where the fool-to-be, if they dare to participate, chooses one at random and is to perform for them. If they fail to impress their chosen audience they can be sent back to retrain. Fail three times and they are forbidden from ever being licensed.

Finally if a fool pulls a prank which violates the laws of the land, they are usually exempt. However if a complaint is made, due to severe property damage, loss of limb, sanity, or life, or political problems resulting in such things, they are sent before a review board. In order for this to happen the person filing the complaint must first get the fool's current employer (if they have one), the royal who approved their license or a proxy, and an official from the school that issued it to agree that the fool in question overstepped themselves and then prove in court that the so called "offence" caused more harm than good to a judge and jury made up of people from the community physically closest to the fool's actions at the time. If found guilty the fool's license is stripped and he is subject to the full brunt of the law. This has happened many times and like impeaching a president in our world rarely works. It has only succeeded twice in Fool's World and one was over turned. There is an appeal process involving riddle contests and literal gallows' humor. In some cases if the fool's employer chooses to they can pay a wergild, or blood money, if the fool was acting while on their pay or on their orders and they just want everyone to go away. Whether they continue to employ said fool after that and if anyone else will risk it is up to them. Even a fool with a license can end up a street bum if they cannot find work.

The fool's license is not meant to allow them to be serial killers, rapists, or torturers. In fact a part of the training is meant to weed out such people. On the other hand being able to get away with nearly anything is part of the fool's trade. Like being royalty. They do the impossible. Not things that are physically impossible (unless they figure out some way), but things nobody else would even think of because _they do not happen_. Like the chess master who leaves his queen open to a direct attack, but does not lose it because his opponent assumes that he would _never_ do that and does not even see it. Or when a person goes to sleep and the concept that they might wake up in a desert, on the Great Wall of China, or anywhere but where they were never enters their head until it actually happens.

A fool does the things another person would never even imagine doing and if it goes well people remember and repeat it. If it goes bad people may never do it again… though history says that eventually somebody will. The first person to intentionally stick their head into a lion's mouth or hit a man in the face with a pie or openly insulting a king in public to everyone's amusement, including the king's. The names of the first people to succeed at such things (those who fail rarely get the chance to tell _anyone_ ) are often lost to history, but the acts live on.

Not that the license if a perfect guarantee of safety. While the licensing and protection system may _seem_ to favor the fool, more than a few of them have just vanished over the years. There are investigators who come looking if a fool disappears, they are about as effective as anyone investigating the death of any other court official. If a king has had a fool killed and buried in a shallow grave or the fool has just wandered off… you have to prove it. So a fool who has pushed too hard can end up dead just like anyone else who pisses off powerful people regardless of laws and taboos. There are stories… possibly true… that sometimes when this happens the gods will punish the perpetrator, which keeps most people in line… usually. Whether this is true or not there are no stories of them intervening _before_ the fool dies so at least for the fool it is a moot point. Other fools, called Reapers, are known to handle punishments, with extreme overreactions, for both those who harm a fool and fools who put the others in danger by overstepping their roles. Most people are familiar with them from that famous motion picture " _Balloons & Blood"_.

Well that should be enough for you to get a basic idea of how Fool's World works. Other things will be explained as the story continues. Anything that is not mentioned you can assume works like our own world. Even things that are the same and have different names there have been translated into their nearest Earth counterpart for your reading ease by the narrator. All good stories start with someone making a fool of themselves, whatever else they are, and what better place to begin than at a place where that applies to everyone?

Here we are again.

 **Chapter 1**

 **School For Fools**

There are times when a person finds that despite everything they can do, someone else makes a fool out of them.

Dahlia St. Carrigan stared around the main hall of Castle Joy, the place that was to be her home. It was empty and impressive and nothing at all what she had imagined the premier school for fools in America to look like. Oh there were flags and tapestries displayed showing a few scenes with clowns, so they were clearly in the right place. Her father was at a podium at the head of the room talking to a bent backed old man in an orange and green costume, bells on his floppy horned hat, pantaloons, and a red nose on his face. No makeup, but with a long white beard that dangled down to his knees.

She had begged her father not to bring her to this place. All it had gotten her was a slap across the face, the bruise still visible on her skin. Not much of a hit. Her father had sent her to the finest boarding schools since she was a small child and the nuns there liked to use the cane, oh didn't they just. She was used to pain, discipline, and knowing when to do as she was told while keeping her mouth shut. She had already been disinherited. The Duke had been very clear about that. "You wish to make a fool of me? Then I shall make one of you." Those words had sealed her fate.

Even over the echoes of the hall she could hear the old man talking, "You are certain you wish to do this my lord? From what you tell me we would have to qualify your daughter as a Natural."

The Duke sneered. "I care not for your buffoonery clown. My daughter is not being sent here because she needs to learn your japes and jokes. She and I have little in common, but we share distaste for your kind. I am sending her here as her punishment." He briefly looked over his shoulder at Dahlia. "I have taken everything but her clothing. Her only support will come from her student fees here. You will feed and clothe her and provide her a home. Should she pass your idiotic tests she will spend her days as a fool or anything else she chooses to make of herself. Fail and she will immediately be thrown out into the world a penniless beggar to make her own way or die. The only reason I have not disowned her entirely is because I would be forfeiting my rights to visit this fate upon her and see the results."  
The old fool cracked a gap-toothed grin and cackled. "Faith nuncle. A real charmer, aren't you my lord?"

The Duke peered down at him from over his long beak-like nose. Sadly something else he shared with his daughter who otherwise shared her mother's beauty. Though she also had her mother's bunny teeth, the tips of which were always peeking over her lower lip. Surgery to fix either was denied her as they were considered features of her illustrious ancestors. "If it were up to me this place and all like it would be leveled along with its inhabitants."

"Then it is a fine thing that it is not up to you, you inbred streak of piss," he replied cheerfully. "So you can stuff it right up your ass and get on with business, sir."

The Duke sniffed and Dahlia, despite herself, was torn between outright shock and a fit of giggles she could barely suppress. She snorted once, but managed to school her look as her father's head snapped around. She had seen him have a servant beaten once because the man had scuffed his shoes at a dance by accident. The man had quit and successfully sued him for more than ten thousand dollars, which the Duke had paid happily and commented that it was worth it knowing that the man would always have the reminders of his beating and that the others would be more careful. To see that withered old man with his silly outfit talk to her father as if he were a slug was unthinkable and suddenly her father's hatred of fools made more sense. Men he could not have beaten were unnatural in his eyes. As unnatural as his daughter.

The two men finished their conversation, money changed hands, and they came over to her. Her father in his dark suit stood over Dahlia and sneered down at her like a vulture with better hair. "I am required to allow you home for a few weeks in the spring. If you show contrition then I may not return you to this pit. It will be your final chance, my daughter, to get back into my good graces. In the mean time I expect excellence in your classes as much now as ever, for fool or not I will not be the father of a _failure_." Without waiting for a response, because his word was final, he walked past her and out of the huge doors that led back through the giant clown face and the tooth-shaped gate to the real world. Dahlia wondered if her father would execute her if she did fail him on top of everything else and in her heart knew that it would be best not to test him.

Dahlia started to turn to watch him go when a withered claw-like hand landed on her shoulder. She turned into the face of a man who could have been her great grandfather… after they buried him. "So, your father says you hate fools too?"

"That was a misunderstanding," she said. "One year my mother wanted to dress me up like a clown and I refused. I said I did not like clowns, but the truth is I just did not want to wear the makeup. I'd seen a television program on how sometimes actors wear body makeup and die because their skin suffocates. Explaining it would have been pointless and it made my father smile for one of the few times. I do not even like wearing normal makeup."

The old man cackled. "Ah, yes. I know all about that. It's true; a few times people have died from makeup. In the old days they used to make it from all kinds of things including poisons. I myself have always enjoyed the art." Then to her horror he reached up and sank his fingers into his face, tearing the skin from his flesh.

Dahlia was still screaming when she realized that under his visage was not bloody meat, but smooth unblemished skin. The old fool took a step back, straightening up, and peeled the rest of his face away and then began removing the liver spotted skin of his arms. Amazed Dahlia saw a middle aged man appear from the elderly one like a butterfly from a cocoon. Instead he looked strong, tall, and when he swept aside his fool's cap to bow, had dark black hair with silver streaks over his ears.

"I am the headmaster of this academy, Old Man Winter."

"That is your name?" She asked cautiously, still surprised by the transformation.

"The one I chose. You can call yourself whatever you want, but each fool chooses a name that goes on their license along with pictures of you with and without your chosen persona."

"I don't understand."

"Ah, to have a pupil who knows so little of our ways. It has been a while since the gentry have sent us one such as yourself. At least against their will. A blank slate with no preconceived expectations. It happens, but rarely these days as most are enlightened." He shrugged. "Then again not many years ago, in your case, it would have been a choice between us and the mental asylum."

Dahlia's eyes lowered. "My father told you why he sent me here?"

"Indeed, though I have personally never seen it as a flaw. Around here it's actually an asset. You my dear, are a Natural."

"A natural what? I heard you say that to my father who calls me quite the opposite."

He smiled with perfect teeth, the rotten yellow ones now safely put away in a pocket. Absently he replaced the red nose and she found she could not help smiling a little. "We can discuss that later. For now I will take you on a tour of our grounds and give you your school supplies. Just leave your luggage here and it will be taken to your room." Dahlia hesitated. "Something wrong?"

"Well I… this is a place for fools and clowns right? I'm afraid what might happen if I go off with a stranger or leave my things unsupervised. I've already had one shock in the last few moments."

The man laughed, this time long and deep, not the aged cackle he had used before. "A good practice, but you don't have to worry. For your first two weeks while you audit the classes and are deciding what you wish to learn you are considered untouchable. Nobody may harm or play pranks on you unless you act first. They may try to taunt you into it and of course after two weeks if you have developed a grudge they will be able to seek revenge, though since you'll be in the Natural's tower you probably won't have that problem."

She blinked. "I get to choose my classes?"

He laughed. "My dear, students here can even decide whether or not to show up for the classes they do choose. We do not monitor your whereabouts or care if you pass our tests. All of that is on _your_ head. Our teachers only do their best. If you can succeed on your own, feel free. If you fail either with or without our lessons, again, it's on you. Doing your best is all we ask and if you do not we won't blame you so long as you tried to do what you wished. As Shakespeare said, 'This above all—"

"—to thine own self be true," Dahlia finished the quote. "Not exactly something my father encourages."

"Then he should have sent you to a convent," Old Man Winter said cheerfully. "Though all things considered I suppose that would not have been much of a punishment so much as sending you to Heaven." She shot him a withering look. "Ah, there's that royal blood. Come my dear, you have much to see and of course while we require little beyond your entrance fees, I cannot speak for your father." He turned and walked away in a capering silly way.

With one last glance at everything she owned in the world, Dahlia followed with slightly more dignity.

Castle Joy was America's premier Fool School. It had been established in 1903 by Juggler, former fool to the King of California (which is much bigger than our version), descendant of the Governor from Spain who declared his State free of Spanish Rule when gold was discovered and who cemented his place by marrying a Native American princess. Coincidentally the school is located on the same site as a certain theme park and the grounds are roughly the same size though Castle Joy is better built to withstand accidents.

The castle was not that different from the one Dahlia had grown up in. Duke Edmund had always been a bit off put because his father had just been an Earl. His title of Duke was bestowed on him after an arranged marriage to Maria Le Fête, the seventh daughter of the current Duchess of New Orleans. Truthfully as the youngest daughter the title was all she had to offer, along with a small trust, but the chance to climb the social ladder was all Edmund cared about so it worked out. Meanwhile Maria got a castle in Eastern California and the money to hold as many parties as she wanted. Aside from the requisite siring of an heir Dahlia doubted that the two of them had seen each other in private since the moment she had been conceived. Both of them had insisted on having a castle and staff far bigger than someone of their status should have had and Dahlia suspected that her father might be involved in a few illegal activities to keep it all running. Especially since he was rarely there unless his wife was throwing another party. Honestly the staff he hired to work there lived in the castle and kept up appearances between his visits and they did their best to make the place as quiet and empty feeling as possible.

Castle Joy on the other hand had the same lived in feel that Dahlia was used to from her boarding schools. It was somewhat bigger, but even though they had not run into any other people yet she knew they were around somewhere. In the distance she could hear the sounds of murmuring. "Are there a lot of students here?"

"Moe than a thousand," Old Man Winter said. "We don't just license fools here. We also train clowns, comedians, musicians, animal trainers, performers, and the like." He looked at her and said. "Even when people get their license they don't always use them to become fools."

"They don't?"  
"It's a free pass to go anywhere and do anything you want," he said. "There are a lot of ways that can be used, especially once you learn how to make people underestimate you. Corporate espionage. World travel. We've trained some of the finest knights in the world…" "Knights" being the term used for police in Fool's World instead of "cops" along with shields" and the ruder "horse's asses" that is used instead of how on our world they say "pigs". "I knew one man when I was a kid here that wore a big brown coat, smoked these smelly green cigars, and pretended to be absent minded always telling stories about relatives that may or may not even have existed. Always gathering evidence, asking one more question after another, until he had an air tight case… sometimes tricking confessions out of people."

Dahlia nodded, thinking it over. "To tell the truth I haven't had much to do with fools or clowns. I spent most of my life in boarding school and you can guess how many my father has let me meet. My mother just does whatever he says so long as he keeps her in comfort." There was a bitter edge to her voice.

Old Man Winter nodded and she had the feeling that he understood exactly what she meant. He pulled out an oversized pocket watch and checked it. "It is past lunch so until three everyone will be outside doing physical education classes if they aren't in the library studying. I think that would be the best place to take you to give you an idea of what your classmates will be like for this year."

"That's fine with me," she said.

"You know only a century ago the closest a woman could officially get to being a fool was as a belly dancer or some such. Now it's all about equality and you can be anything you want." They passed a few people in the halls. Some looked perfectly normal, but most had on costumes of one kind of another. Dahlia tried not to look like she was staring, though it was hard with the makeup and clashing colors. Colors that assaulted the eyes and drew attention like a magnet. Finally they reached the back doors and stepped out into the sun. After waiting inside it took her eyes a moment to adjust properly. When they did Dahlia froze, staring as a cross between a dream and a nightmare.

The scene before her looked like a circus without the tent. There were high wires and trapezes set up everywhere. People rode horses and were training with other exotic animals in cages or open arenas. Some juggled, others performed gymnastics and dances. What caught her eye though was that each person was different. There were dozens of clowns, each one with a different painted face. Other people wore masks. Still others looked as odd as Old Man Winter had in his disguise and she could not tell if they were real. Animal faces, disfigured people, bums, and some dressed in the latest fashions which clashed with their odd faces. One fool was playing a crank organ while a monkey in an identical costume to his danced.

"Are some of them real? Some of them look real."

"Yes," he told her. ""Mostly the Geeks."

She saw one boy with turquoise scales covering his skin and fangs peeking over his lips. "Why would anyone do that to themselves? I've seen people like this occasionally but never in a group like that." There were so many, all talking together as they did their different things, that it was like listening to the sea or one of her mother's parties.

"We can't all be Naturals," he said absently. "You were never taught what fools are for?"

She shrugged. "They make jokes. Insult people. Play pranks and entertain people."

"Partially. Those who do that alone are merely clowns, not fools."

"What's the difference?"

He turned and looked at her and the steel in his eyes that she suddenly saw in his eyes drew her own like a magnet. "A clown is an entertainer. All they have to do is be funny. A fool's purpose is a sacred duty. We stand outside and find new ways. We risk everything to disrupt the expected and force people to leave their comfort zones. In whatever way most makes an impression. A clown just works for others. A fool does what they will." He bent forward until his shiny red rubber nose was almost touching hers. "So tell me little girl, are you planning on being a clown or a fool? Do you have anything inside you other than daddy's little girl?"

"If I didn't," she said stiffly. "I would not have been sent here in the first place."

He smiled. "True. Still, here you are."

She shrugged. "My father employs very large men and keeps very tight control over the family finances. He also has enough pull to keep any of the people I might have gone to for help from being able to offer me any. He's not big on defiance. So when he offered me the choice between this place and the street, I thought the least I could do is buy time. Up to a year at least until his money runs out. Maybe less."

"Not willing to live without silk sheets?"

"Not if I can find a way around it." She smiled. "I don't see much point in taking being homeless as my first choice."

"You may regret that," Old Man Winter said, backing up. "You are signed up as one of the Naturals. It's expected of you to become the best of fools. This means that everyone else who has any aspirations of becoming a licensed fool, all the best students here, are your competition." He smirked nastily. "We have on average seven murders a year and another half dozen suicides among the students. Hundreds of injuries, many of them severe. That's more than some prisons. Of course they have guards who will actually stop such things. Here you're left to yourself." He watched her face. "You don't seem particularly worried for someone who came here to be safe."

"You haven't said anything I find particularly worrisome. Have you ever been to a boarding school for royalty?"

"I can't say that I have."

"Think about this for a second. You have a group of people who are always in each other's way. The king of some country dies with his family in an accident and everyone under them steps up. A wife and child get killed and he needs a new woman and heir. Kidnap those same people and you can extort money. Or sell them. Some people pay money to get into a royal bloodline. Every person I've ever gone to school with has required body guards and self defense training. And that is not even counting all of the other things I've been through to be a debutant and pass my other classes. My father and the nuns who ran my school had no problem beating a girl who did not do her best and I haven't had a serious beating in a _long_ time."

"Obedience and caution will only get you so far in this place. Are you willing to take risks?"

Dahlia sighed and shook her head. "This is a test isn't it? You push until you see if I'm good enough?"

"No, we push until you quit or graduate." He smiled widely, showing his teeth. "Or break."

"Didn't you hear my father? I'm already broken. Wait here." She walked away from him, her face showing no emotion, her skirts fluttering in the breeze. She was a little surprised that he did not try to stop her. Her teachers before had always been a little on edge about risking the lives of a child of royalty. Old Man Winter only raised a curious brow.

Dahlia walked onto the grass and over to the cleared area, looking around. Some of the students glanced her way, but from the looks of things despite their painted grins they were taking their lessons seriously. As she approached the tall poles that led up to the high wire she had noticed earlier though, more of them started to take notice. A large man, bulky with muscles, stood near by. Older than the rest she had seen him giving instructions and assumed he must be a teacher. His face was painted red with black lines going over his right eye in a cross and a black diamond over the left. His lips were surrounded by a blue painted smile though the set of his squared jaw said he rarely smiled much in reality and he wore a yellow fool's cap that came to a point with a gold bell on the tip. His shirt was blue and he wore green suspenders to keep up his loose purple pants. His feet were bare and his bulky arms were pretty hairy.

She curtsied to him and said, "May I?"

"You sure you want to in that outfit? Maybe you should take off your shoes first."

Dahlia glanced up at the rope. It was thick, almost four inches. Dahlia was wearing a dark blue school girl's uniform, the skirt loose enough for her to walk without taking baby steps and while the white shirt and tie under her blue blazer were a little tight, it was not as if she were wearing a corset or a gown. Her shoes had three inch pointed heels on them. "I'll be fine."

The big man shrugged with a tinkle of his cap. "If you want. Try to hit the net on your way down. We've still got almost two hours of class left and people with broken necks and cracked spines tend to distract the other students. The screaming gets old fast."

She nodded. "Understood." Up above the last person to wobble their way across was reaching the far end. She started up the ladder. It was actually in several tiers like a diving board at ten foot intervals. Dahlia kept climbing until she hit the top, five stories above the ground. On the platform she took a look down. The net below looked a lot smaller from up there.

Taking a deep breath Dahlia focused on the distant platform across the rope and stepped forward. From the ground it looked impressive as hell. In pointy stilettos and without her face showing any emotion Dahlia walked along the rope like she was on a country road. Not even glancing down her feet found their place in front of each other with ease and half way across she did a forward cartwheel, her skirts and long brown hair flapping like flags in the air, then she turned and did one backwards. From below she heard applause.

Personally though as she turned again and continued her walk across the rope Dahlia was hardly impressed with herself. Since she had learned to walk she had been in gymnastics classes, dance classes, and anything else they could find to keep her occupied. Naturally she was expected to be the best at all of it and private boarding schools for the rich had never banned physical discipline. Some parents might have a problem with it. Dahlia's father was not one of them. His daughter was just another way to show how much better he was than _everyone_ else. She learned early that if she wanted to avoid being on the receiving end of a caning, she needed to live up to that expectation. She could have done a lot of other more impressive things, but another lesson her life had taught her was to not set the bar too high too soon.

At the other end of the rope she got onto the ladder and slid down, her feet hitting the ground with the feather-like touch of a ballerina. The large red faced man was there and he gave her a brief nod. Dahlia suspected that this was better than most people got from him. "Impressive."

She held back a derisive snort and just nodded. Walking back to where Old Man Winter was waiting she heard the man behind her clap his hands for attention and go back to teaching his official students. When she reached him she asked. "Are you done with your games now?"

He laughed. "Lady, all we do here is play games." He tossed her a heavy leather pouch. She caught it and it jingled. "You do get bonus points for style though."

"What's this?"

"A little extra spending money. I overcharged your father by three times for your tuition. He did not even question it."

"Of course not," she said. "Nobody would dare."

"Only a fool," he said with a grin. "Keep it in good health. If you need to use it to pay for another year or two, spend it in town on your off time, or if things get too hard around here just quit and start a new life somewhere else." He smiled as she casually hefted the bag. "You know, the thing about pack animals like wolves, monkeys, lions, and humans is that they come in three flavors. The alphas, the betas, and the omegas. The alphas lead. The betas follow, at least until they can become alphas. The omegas…"

"Are alone," she finished for him. "Outcasts who leave one group and try to join another. Sometimes they fail and have to fend for themselves. Other times they join the pack and either take over, or they end up being subservient and often routinely attacked for a long time because the pack hates outsiders. I did go to school."

Nodding Old Man Winter said, "So why would they go through that? What purpose does it serve for them to risk so much only to be killed, beaten, or whatever?"

"It keeps the packs from getting stale. New infusions of DNA to keep them from inbreeding. Sometimes new tricks for getting food or finding a safe place to live. Maybe they learned why you don't mess with humans or fire and they teach it to the others."

"Correct. However, they are rarely thanked. Never asked. Often hurt. And when all is said and done quickly forgotten. Except sometimes if they did it well, their lessons are remembered and help those who come later to survive better than they otherwise would have. Not just because they sired a few offspring or protected the others so that they could live a little longer. Because they taught the others to be better. At least a little." He smirked. "Among us humans that means being a shaman or a fool. The good wise example that teaches and cares or the bad one who shows off and risks it all."

"That could apply to anyone."

"Yes. Everyone is a fool at times. It rarely ends well."

Dahlia shrugged and for the first time, she smiled. "What does?"

Old Man Winter laughed. "I knew I liked you. Come on, your things will have been taken to your room in the woman's tower for Naturals."

"You keep saying 'Naturals' like it means something. Care to clue me in?"

"You're a smart ass. I'm sure you'll figure it out."

Her room was actually quite nice. Old Man Winter said it was better than average because it was one of the Naturals' towers. Whatever that meant. It was better than any room she had ever been in at a school. It was more like her room at home. There was a television, radio, and computer. There were tapestries and books. The window was large and had a great view of the grounds. A grandfather clock ticked away in the corner and the princess style bed with silk sheets sat in the corner. There was even a walk-in closet next to a private bathroom and a small kitchen complete with refrigerator and stove.

Slightly more worrying were the thick bars on those windows and that the door had seven locks, including a large wooden bar that could only be put in place from the inside. He had given her a ring of a dozen keys because just to get into the tower had taken that many locks and more including a biometric security system that took a thumb print, retinal scan, and voice analysis followed by a scan of an RFID chip in a special school ID she was given. Her father's safe room and treasury were less complicated to get into. "The Naturals are always seen as a major threat by the other students who are after their license because of your advantages. Also you can't always trust the others in the dorm either, especially while you are asleep. You'll have a resident advisor who already has her license and a really well paying job here, so she won't actively be trying to kill you and may assign detention if she sees someone actively trying to hurt you or if you annoy her by being needy."

"Detention?" Dahlia did not like the way he said that. "Why do I get the feeling that we're not talking about chalkboards and study hall?"

He laughed. "Smart girl." With that he turned and walked out. 'Don't worry. Like I said, you have two weeks to acclimatize." The door shut behind him.

Dahlia considered her position. The tower was empty at the moment, the other residents out in their various classes. She could unpack, she supposed, but finally she decided to save that for later. After she was more certain whether she would take the money she had been given and run for it. Briefly she had examined the pouch and found it full of real gold. While checks and cards were popular enough on Fool's World paper money had never much taken off except for government transactions. Most countries still used solid money, coins and jewels, for anything but major transactions especially since each state and country had its own money which often changed with every new leader. She would not put counterfeiting past someone who worked at a fool's school.

Stuffing it into her luggage she instead lay down on the bed and picked up the orientation packet she had been given with her student ID. The first page had a schedule.

 **7AM-8AM Breakfast**

 **8AM-11AM Indoor Classes**

 **12PM-1PM Lunch**

 **1PM-4PM P.E.**

 **4PM-7PM Serious Time**

 **7PM-8PM Dinner**

 **8PM-7AM Bed Time**

 **11PM-6AM Night Classes**

The list of offered classes and their descriptions went on for several pages. No attendance was taken. Teachers taught whatever they were teaching to whoever turned up for the class. Assignments varied. There seemed to be no structure or even a grading system. Was there no way to tell how well you were doing?

No, she realized as she thought about what she had been told earlier. You knew how well you did. Your teachers and classmates would know. It was all about how you made other people react. If nothing else, by the quality of enemies and friends you made.

She considered that as she looked up "Serious Time". For three hours a day in the afternoon all jokes, pranks, hoaxes, lies, and games were forbidden. It was a time when all the students and staff could go about their business, do their dorm chores, or just relax. Dahlia was mildly unnerved to notice that none of the meal times were included. That probably explained the private kitchen. It was meant so that if anything happened to the food they served you could still get a safe meal in private. Above that was also a listing for "Rhyme Time", a random period where a bell would ring in the school tower and until it rang again everyone had to speak in rhyme. It could last minutes or days depending on the whims of the faculty.

Violations of the rules or even on a whim of a teacher would result in detention, which as it turned out meant time locked in a set of stocks for a few days and fed one pound servings of oatmeal for breakfast and dinner. The other students would be provided with paddles and rotten fruit to use as they saw fit. Friends could also, if they chose, protect someone in the stocks. It seemed medieval at first, but Dahlia saw the sense of it when she thought of the sort of punishments her father handed out to those who displeased him. Any fool who pushed a person far enough that they would violate the taboo against punishing them could expect far worse.

Also it was a good test of people skills. There was no listing in the schedule for free time between classes and other activities. If people were willing to sacrifice that time to punish or protect someone in the stocks, it would be a good measure of how good they were with people. If one did a good job of getting people to like them and making friends you might be okay even if given detention. Piss off too many people and you could expect Hell. Or if you liked that sort of thing… In any case most of the students were not actually after a license so friendships were possible. Unlikely, considering the singular nature of a fool's life, but possible. Dahlia had some experience making allies among those who might be against her for political reasons.

Smirking and feeling like she was right at home she read on. There were not too many solid rules. Just general guidelines. It seemed to her that the "teachers" just provided information and opportunities and watched to see how the kids did, leaving them to learn mostly from experience. Oh they would give tips and directions, even calling for help if someone was injured, but if you were looking for a safe stable learning environment you would do better in the penal system. A lot of the things described seemed to encourage competition between the students, often just for attention from the instructors.

Not least because when the time came to present their skills before the royals who could authorize their licenses the challenge was intense. Students might rip off one another's acts, or simply be so good that the following act might fall flat in comparison. Some royals, like her father, were notoriously hard to please if not impossible, and others easy. That was assuming that the person had the guts to try in the first place and if they failed three times they were barred from ever attempting it again. Some students spent years trying to be the perfect fool only to fail. Others went too far and were deemed too dangerous to be allowed a license.

No wonder eliminating the competition was a hallowed tradition among the students. A licensed fool was capable of nearly anything. Offers to work for huge fees as members of royal courts or companies, not to mention a host of other jobs, would pour in. If one was good enough doors opened and dreams came true.

Dahlia had always imagined that when she grew up she would be an ambassador until she inherited her father's position. She was a lower level noble after all, but the chance to travel and meet interesting people in interesting places had always appealed to her. Also to make a difference by arranging trade agreements and perhaps having the ear of a king or queen.

That had all gone down the drain when her father had caught her doing what she had been doing. Not that she was particularly ashamed of it and up until he had caught _her_ at it had not thought he cared about that sort of thing either. It was not the middle-ages after all. Then there had been the screaming and the yelling and the very public humiliation of it all followed by her being restricted to her room for a month before being sent to Castle Joy. Her mother had tried to intervene at least, though as usual she crumbled before her husband's wrath rather than risk herself.

Dahlia's nails dug into the folder, teeth gritted at the unfairness of it all. Stripped of her title and with the added publicity of what had happened she could never expect to move in high society again. Even if her father restored her to her former position in life the scandal would follow her. Fortunately even in his rage her father had not dared let slip who else had been involved or what exactly his daughter had been doing. Perhaps that had been worse, because it meant the speculation ran wild and Dahlia herself could not simply tell anyone either for fear of dragging someone else down with her. She had her pride, honor, and friendships to consider even if officially they had been stripped from her. What else did she have left?

Trying to calm down she read on, finding a calendar listing a lot of activities. Weekends in the school were reserved for a variety of events and competitions meant to challenge the students. There were various field trips and charity events as well. Even some parties. There was a nearby town that students were allowed to visit as they saw fit.

It was starting to feel like a more relaxed version of her usual days until she got to the page on the requirements. All students, by the end of their two week trial, had to make their own "look" that would be copyrighted and registered. Something identity concealing, meant to allow a fool to hide incase of angry mobs who might not appreciate certain pranks. Just a foam rubber nose was not going to cut it. It had to be as original as possible unless you had a proven blood relation to a clown in the past, in which case you could use your ancestor's costume and even old routines. This was called a "Tradition". Dahlia noted the capital letter and how it reminded her of the way Old Man Winter had called her a Natural. Unfortunately that explanation was missing from the information.

In addition while there were classes on nearly everything, there were all kinds of rules about jokes, acts, music, props, art, and nearly everything else. Laws on what a person owned and could use for personal gain. A fool might be able to skirt criminal charges, but that also meant that anything a fool did to another was fair game and some grudges over stolen bits had led to more than one comedian literally dying on stage. Not that even threats of death and dismemberment stopped everyone. To prevent theft it was not unusual for people to keep their bits secret, but that also meant that if they were stolen there was no way to prove who owned what. Warnings were peppered through the papers of theft and spying. There were entire classes on creating original machines for fools to use and warnings that such things were coveted by less creative students. Even the teachers were not above suspicion.

For fools comedy was war.

"I'm in a den of funny looking spies," she muttered. Not that she was certain exactly what she could come up with that a fool might want to steal. She was good at many things, but humor was not one of them. Her father had not appreciated jokes at home and the nuns at school were almost as bad. Not without reason. A careless word or a badly told joke by a noble could have devastating consequences. Even in private they had to be careful lest someone was listening in.

She was only about half way through all the papers, including the waver her father was signed incase she got damaged, when she heard noises in the hallway outside. Her dorm mates had finally arrived from their classes. She checked the clock and saw that it was Serious Time, so she was probably safe to go out and meet them. There was the nagging doubt that alone in the tower such rules could be enforced, but then she remembered her two week promise of safety. "No time like the present then." Later she might find that staying safely locked in her room would be a good idea.

Placing the papers aside she got off her bed, straightened her clothes, and went out to meet the locals.


	2. Harlequin Chapter 2

This is a chapter from the book "Harlequin: A Fool's World Novel" By Clayton Overstreet which is being published here for promotional reasons. It is available complete from Amazon and its affiliates in book format. If you do not want to wait for me to post the next chapter, have a problem with the formatting as it appears on this website, and would like to support me so that I can have the time and money needed to write more, I strongly suggest you buy it. I do own these characters and would like to seriously profit from them. This book is however private property, I own the copyright to the story and characters, and I would appreciate it if you did not disseminate it to other people. I can't stop you, I know, but I'd really prefer if you would just buy the book, even if you read the whole story here. Legal action however will be taken for plagiarism.

 **Chapter 2**

 **You Are A Natural**

A detailed map of the school was with the papers, including the tower she now resided in. There was a common room on the top floor where from the sound of it the other girls in the tower had gathered. Dahlia considered that a good sign. It sounded like they were getting along well enough. Girding her loins for whatever awaited her as she walked up the twisting staircase she opened the door and stepped inside, not failing to notice the sudden silence that descended on the room.

It took Dahlia a moment to realize what it was she was seeing. She was trained to take in a lot in a room as she walked in, to evaluate a place and the people in it for potential weaknesses, threats, other advantages. There were two couches three arm chairs and a coffee table covered in magazines with the middle of the room in front of a large television set and an empty fireplace. The weather had been warm enough that it was free of ashes. Over it was a shield with a pie painted on it. Normally there would be two swords crossed behind it, but instead there was a stick with a clown head and what looked like a rubber mackerel. The kind that would start singing if you got too close. Across from the fireplace were several large and full book shelves. There was a window and a sky light. Both were barred and would only unlock from the inside. Sitting on the furniture were five other girls ranging from around her age of seventeen to maybe thirty. It was hard to tell because each one had their faces covered.

On instinct Dahlia would usually observe the people after that but she got caught on the first one she saw. Or more specifically on her chest. Dahlia's brain went blank except for the phrase, "I can't believe those are real." They were the largest breasts she had ever seen on a woman. Mocha skinned mounds with cleavage so deep it made her afraid that one wrong step and she would fall into the bottomless void. They were cradled in a red leather and black lace corset style bustier that held them up like torpedoes. Dahlia had no idea what size they were because even in specialty shops she had never seen anything big enough to fit them for sale. They rose and fell like the sea and she felt her eyes following them without consulting her brain.

"Hey girl, my eyes are up here," said a voice from over the horizon.

Blushing she dragged her eyes reluctantly up to the face that seemed to bob up and down on the sea of flesh. Fortunately that face was shocking enough to grab her attention. From the breasts she had expected a black woman and that was technically what she got. The woman was clearly African American with full lips, sharp features, and wide brown eyes. On the other hand she was literally the whitest black person Dahlia had ever seen from the ears forward.

Her face was painted white in a circle, filled in perfectly. Her mouth was surrounded by a dark purple smile, even though her real lips frowning a little. Around her eyelids were green circles painted to look big with large curving red eyebrows over them. She also had pink circles on her cheeks at the edge of her painted mouth. Her nose was hidden behind a shiny fake orange nose. Her hair was— "Gah!" Without a second thought Dahlia threw her hand up over her eyes and backed away. The girl's hair was not a collection of green dreadlocks like she had though, but a mass of writhing snakes.

Dahlia had no time to think about what she had seen because the silence of the room was suddenly filled with laughter. She heard the girl's voice say, "That never gets old!"

Feeling silly she opened her eyes and glared at the girl. "I thought there were rules about not playing jokes at this time of the day." There were more snickers.

"Did I play a joke?" she asked batting over large red eyelashes. "My face always looks like this. It's tattooed on and I wear the snake-wig all the time. Is it my fault you're easily startled?" She leaned back, crossing her legs which were wrapped in thigh high red and white striped socks and ludicrously over sized shoes. Dahlia noted that while her body was curvaceous, her breasts still looked to be five sized too large. She could not imagine how the girl would even stand up without immediately falling flat on her face.

"Tattooed?" Dahlia was shocked. Who would intentionally make themselves look like that permanently?

"Don't let her throw you off," said another voice, high pitched like a child's but with the tones of an adult. "She's just a Geek."

Turning Dahlia saw a squat form sitting at one end of one of the couches, flipping absently through a magazine. She was white, just under four feet tall, and dressed in a classic jester's outfit that looked like it was inflated, making her body look inhumanly round like a living ball of orange and yellow diamonds. Unlike the first girl her face was not painted, but the top half was hidden behind a pointed green and black domino mask that vanished into her yellow and orange fool's cap. Bells hung everywhere including her curly toed shoes which danged off the couch.

"I'm not a Geek, Short Stuff!" the first girl snapped.

"Sure you are, Tits." She shot back, not looking up. "Maybe those milk tubs of yours are real, but the cybernetic implants you had to get to keep your body from falling apart trying to lug them around and avoid breast reduction surgery means that you're more of a Geek than anyone in the regular dorms who hasn't actually had DNA alterations."

The first girl shrugged and Dahlia heard the tiny muffled hum of motors beneath her skin almost too faint to hear. Her breasts bounced with the motion, drawing Dahlia's eyes like magnets for a second until they stopped jiggling. Similar sounds, she realized, were coming from the snakes on the girl's head. An animatronic wig. Even with modern gene splicing there was no way those could be real, though they looked it. Whether it was permanently attached to her body she would not dare to guess.

She saw Dahlia looking again and winked. "You should see me on bikini wax day."

There was a sudden snap and they both looked over to a lounge chair where an older woman, maybe in her late twenties, was sitting. It was hard to tell because she was dressed as a mime. Her face was white with thin vertical lines drawn over her eyes and black lipstick under black eye liner. She wore a black and white shirt in thin horizontal stripes, black suspenders, black pants, and shiny black shoes. She was well proportioned and pretty enough, from what Dahlia could see through the makeup, with long hair dyed black with red-gold roots. She was snapping her white gloved fingers.

When they looked she flicked her wrists and a black card with white writing appeared in her hand. The words WATCH IT, BITCH! DON'T MAKE ME SMACK YOUR ASS UP! were written on it.

"Sorry, Shits," the other girl said contritely. The mime shot her a dirty look that wiped the real grin under her fake one off her face.

"'Shits'?" Dahlia asked, shocked by the sudden profanity.

"Ladies, please, introductions first," said a new husky voice. A figure rose up from one of the couches. "I suppose as the gentleman in the room it's up to me."  
She wore a suit that looked like it had been dug out of the trash. Her face smeared with grime that Dahlia could only hope was makeup. There was no accompanying smell so it was likely. She had Asian features, but under the "dirt" it was hard to be more specific. Unlike the others while her mouth was painted around with white, it was in the shape of a frown. The same for around her eyes. Her red nose was large and round between them. The hair that stuck out under her top hat, the top of which was popped open like the lid of a can, was naturally black and looked both filthy and tangled. Her white gloves were as soiled as the rest of her, only a few of the fingers in tact. She wore a coat and tails over rainbow spotted pants. The coat had no shirt, just smooth golden skin under it, buttoned tight and revealed only the barest glimpse of her breasts. They were very small and if her figure had not been so slim they might have looked fine on a man. No need for a bra there. Dahlia put her age at around twenty-five.

One of the spots on her pants was actually a hole, right up front where her zipper should have been and under a pink button. Despite herself Dahlia glanced at the hole and saw a pair of surprisingly clean sky blue silk panties. She was about to look away when she saw the bulge under them. Small, but as the woman walked, obviously _there_. Solid and beginning to stand at attention as "she" moved, a bit of curly black hair sticking out around it like a bird's nest between shaved thighs. But under _that_ there was also an unmistakable camel toe, the tight panties hugging the shape of it enough to tell that _that_ to was there. Was the "lump" a fake? Were her breasts? Old Man Winter had certainly proven that appearances could be deceiving.

Swinging her hips like a tramp while also swaggering like a man, she took Dahlia's hand and kissed the back, leaving a bit of white behind. Immediately she yanked her hand back and wiped it on her skirt with a sneer of disgust. Suddenly the bum was frowning to match her makeup. Dahlia quickly said, "It's not you! Sorry. I have a slight phobia about makeup on my skin."

The smile returned behind the frown. "Ah, what would the world be like if we were all the same?" She spoke in a cultured way, a thick English accent. Not surprising since for a long time the British Empire had ruled large parts of China and traded with them. Or then maybe she was from England or even just putting on the accent. Dahlia really could not tell. "Allow me to make introductions. I am Al Smiles." She doffed her hat and bowed.

Dahlia smiled and curtsied back on reflex. "A pleasure. And is Al short for something?"

"Like Alicia? Alice? Albert? Alphonse?" Without providing an answer Al went on, "The lady by the door with the large breasts is Tits McGee."

Dahlia looked back at said girl who had closed her eyes. "If you can remember in the next ten seconds what color my eyes were I'll give you a hundred dollars."

Looking back at Al Dahlia did not answer. Al went on, "The tiny woman on the couch is Short Stuff."

The little woman looked up and smiled from behind her mask. Her teeth were colored black and purple in a pattern, one after another, giving her a disturbing air. "I'm not a fan of makeup either. Too much of a hassle in the morning."

Next she introduced a woman that Dahlia had been too distracted to focus on. "Now this is Short Stuff's best friend, Dolly." The woman was Huge, with a capital "H". Even sitting down Dahlia would have guessed that she was over eight feet tall. She wore no mask and the only makeup was what you would expect to see on a woman of about twenty, though Dahlia imagined that she had to put it on with a trowel. The name made sense too. She wore a princess dress, all pink satin and white lace frills. Her long brown hair fell down her back and her bust was almost half as big as Tits', though more in proportion with her huge body so that from a distance Dahlia would have guessed her to be a C-cup. Her face was a bit manly with a thick jaw, heavy brow, and large nose. On her head was perched a crown of gold and pearls. Ironically she could have picked up anyone else in the room as if they were her doll.

"Nice to meet you," Dahlia said, her voice steady despite the sudden image of the woman crushing her like an insect. "I hope we can be friends."

Speaking for the first time she had a deep echoing voice. "We'll see."

"And finally let me introduce you to our Resident Advisor, Shits the Mime." Dahlia turned to the mime again. The woman looked at her frowning and materialized another card. WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE LOOKING AT? I'M NOT PUTTING ON A SHOW! UNLESS YOU HAVE A QUESTION STOP STARING AND BACK OFF, BITCH!

"Huh?" Dahlia asked. "What did I do?"

Al put a hand on her shoulder and turned her away. "Don't mind her. She has that mental thing where she cusses all the time. It's kind of impressive since she can't actually talk. A born mute. You probably do not have to worry. Though we try to leave her alone because we're not sure whether or not she'd actually pull out a knife and start cutting us if we annoy her with too many questions."

Dahlia looked back at Shits and moved her hands as she began speaking in sign language. "I apologize. I'll try not to take up too much of your time."

Shits blinked in surprise Shits smiled for the first time and signed back, "I like you. But do not push it."

Dahlia nodded while around the room the others looked on in confusion. Dahlia cleared her throat. "I'm happy to meet you all. My name is—" She was silenced by one of Al's fingers on her lips.

"Sorry darling, but you haven't been here long enough to have a name yet. You don't even have a face." Al smiled. "Though I have to admit, you were very impressive on the high wire this afternoon. The teacher in that class was Shits' brother, Giggles. He's very hard to impress."

Dahlia took what Al was saying in. She knew about traditions and it seemed that until she completed the requirements listed in the folder, she was not a real person. Not in the eyes of a fool anyway. It was like some kind of rite of passage. Choosing your own identity. A little weird, but she could understand and might even like it. So instead she focused on the last sentence. "I was just showing off."

"Uh, duh," Short Stuff said from the couch. "That's what you do here. What's impressive is that you did not fall and break your neck. I have to cheat and use special shoes just to keep from falling off. You were bouncing around like a tree frog. Is that your thing? Do you have sticky pads on your toes or something?"

"My 'thing'?" Dahlia glanced at Al. "I don't have a…"

"She means, what brings you to our little club?" Al said, obviously realizing what she had been trying not to say. "Women have only been allowed to openly be fools en mass since the fifties. Until then they both dressed as men and acted the part or the closest they came was as dancing girls unless they got special dispensation from royalty, usually because they were sleeping with them. Ladies who want to be fools and are Naturals are extremely rare, as evidenced by our small numbers despite this large tower we get all to ourselves. The men's side is much more crowded."

"What did you do, bribe your way in so you could see the freaks?" Short Stuff asked. All of them were looking at her now.

Suddenly light dawned and Dahlia felt a new level of embarrassment. However many of those cards Shits had, they could not cover the sheer amount of angry curse words Dahlia was now thinking about her father. Not that she should have been surprised. Why would her father fail to make her embarrassment complete?

 _Natural_ was not a term she had ever heard used before, but the meaning was clear. Back in the olden days before political correctness and understanding other people's shortcomings, the best way for someone who was crippled, deformed, or insane to survive in a world that thought throwing rocks at anything that could not fight back was funny as hell was to get protection. Make someone laugh another way, prove how smart you were, or simply humiliate yourself and you were likely to live longer. Do it enough and you could get a sponsor. Some royal who found it funny watching a midget climb into a chair or seeing a person dance like a monkey would house, clothe, feed, and even pay to keep them around for their amusement.

Failing that there were the old Freak Shows. Pretty much the same deal for a paying audience at a circus or carnival. See the Wolf Boy covered in hair. Marvel at the girl with the webbed toes, the daughter of mermaids (or more likely brother and sister). Watch as Mad Marvin devours sand, carpets, and an entire car engine before your eyes. And of course there was always that one dwarf mixed in with the other clowns.

Their comments about _Geeks_ made sense now too. Yes it was a term used for nerds and weirdoes, but like how dork originally referred to a whale's penis they meant it in terms of self-made freaks. The tattooed ladies, people with implants, those who bit the heads of chickens because they _wanted_ to rather than being compelled, or contortionists who learned to do their tricks rather than because they were double jointed or something. Whether you were a Geek or a Freak, among fools it was obviously an asset. People were always willing to pay more for something rare and unique. With modern medicine and technology the possibilities compared to what nature could produce were almost limitless, especially since most people would use it to make themselves less of an outsider. Still some kept their genetically "flawed" children as they were or made themselves into monster, in the hopes that they might earn a fool's license and get the kind of job that paid enough to make it worth it. Or just because they were weird.

However, no matter how strange a person made themselves that was the work of man. A Natural, as Dahlia guessed they preferred to be called, was the result of the touch of the divine. People destined by their births to become fools. They were considered lucky. Charmed. Possibly very smart. Somehow they survived to adulthood with a deformity, mental illness, or other handicap. In the old days a strong healthy person was expected to marry and have kids as a teenager because they were lucky to see a second decade. If the gods both took the time to mark someone with a deformed leg or a hump and then kept them alive that long, clearly they had plans for them and who knew what they might do to anyone who would dare harm them? In every culture whether they were the kind of people that built empires or the ones that lived in grass hunts in the deep jungle had such fools and treated them the same way. Mythology was full of them. They might be good examples or bad examples. Most met with death at some point because of their foolishness, but then, who did not?

They also left those who saw them with that one thought which ensured that as long as they did not go too far and pissed off too many people they were treated with a bit more courtesy: "That could be me." Who did not wonder what would happen if they lost a limb in an accident? Went mad? Had a deformed child or heck, pissed off the gods? Not everyone might be sympathetic, but without some empathy a society could never survive.

Of course some of them became shamans or priests if they were smart or chosen. It came with power, responsibility, and the same sort of protections. But a mentally handicapped person, someone with an unpleasant personality, or maybe who just never learned to read could not lead. Meanwhile a fool had no responsibilities other than to keep people entertained and thinking. Also when priests make mistakes or give bad advice they are often punished for it while nobody notices when they are perfect most of the time. With fools it is expected so that when they do well everyone notices. Fools also tended to be sacrificed less often.

In modern times Naturals were more likely to live, but less likely to want to be a fool. They could have lives not too different from the average person. Any disfigurements or handicaps could be fixed. Plus most people would be put off by a lot of the requirements to go through a school like Castle Joy and what they would have to do if they got the job. Being a fool without a license was a bigger liability than just being naturally handicapped. On the other hand (if they had one) being either a Natural or a Geek and having the legal right to act without repercussions would make them in high demand among royalty. The shock value alone was worth a fortune and the unique aspects of a Natural meant that they had a definite edge over other fools.

"I would never do that," she said. "It was not my idea to even come to this school and from the way he treated my father I doubt the headmaster here would have done him any special favors by sending me here just for asking."

"Then why are you here? You seem a little normal for the tower." The way Short Stuff said it made it clear that "normal" was not a compliment in present company. Less than half a dozen of them who applied to the school, probably of their own free will, where they were the elite. Dahlia had to keep that in mind. Strange as it was and probably against her father's plans she had been dropped into what was probably considered the best group in the school. Of course not everyone appreciated the elite, which explained all the locks and bars everywhere.

"I was almost put in the boy's tower, except that I'm fertile to get pregnant and sterile to get a woman pregnant. A shame since my new boyfriend is in that tower. Frankly I think his breasts look much better than Tits' do." Al said with a wink. "Is it something like that? You did say you were sent here. You don't want to be here?"

Dahlia chose her words carefully. These girls had spent a fortune to enroll. That she did not care much about something they had dedicated themselves to, let alone her father's opinion of it, might not go over well. "It was unexpected and I'm a little uncertain. As for why I'm here… um…" She pointed a finger at her face. "It's my nose and my bunny teeth, see?"

"Bullshit," Tits said. "My aunt went here when she was a kid. You've probably seen her on the news: Jugs A. Popping." Dahlia nodded. Jugs was a popular investigative journalist and not just because her large breasts were often bared to the public eye when she did her live reports. She also used her fool status to sneak into places and get her hands on things other people would be arrested for even looking at. Her breasts were nowhere as big as Tits' were.

As if reading that thought Tits went on, "She wasn't a Natural, but when I saw what she gets away with I wanted to follow in her footsteps and get my license. My parents weren't happy and when I started to fill out they wanted me to get a breast reduction because even when I was just a D-cup my back was hurting and I was only thirteen. Aunt Jugs supported me and gave me the money to get the cyber implants to haul these sweater puppies around because she could tell I'd be a Natural if they kept growing." Her eyes narrowed. "They have very strict requirements to be considered a Natural. I didn't qualify until I was a G-cup and I waited until they stopped at K before applying. Your nose would have to extend at least four inches past your lips just to be _considered_ and teeth are iffy at best. You'd have to have a really messed up mouth."

Dahlia pressed her lips together. Before she could figure out an answer Dolly said, "I know why she's here." They all looked at her. "I read about it in the tabloids." She grinned smugly. "Don't worry, I won't say."

Shits whistled, getting their attention. She produced a blank black card and a white pen. After a bit of scribbling she handed it to Al who read it aloud. "'You fuckers can mind your own damned business. I know why she's here too and she qualifies. Technically it's not considered a bad thing in the real world, but the damned school statutes have been on the fucking books since the eighteen hundreds so she's in. End of story. Anyone who pesters her about it will get detention. Understand?'"

"Yes ma'am," the others chorused.

Shooting the mime a relieved smile Dahlia considered taking a seat in an empty chair, but thought better of it. "Well now that I've met everyone, I think I should go back to my room and finish reading up on the school rules. Ladies, it was a pleasure to meet you." She tried not to look at Tits' tits when she said that or Al's pants. She really did. "I will see you all at breakfast." They bid her goodbye and watched as she exited the room.

Hurrying back to her room Dahlia shut the door and quickly collapsed onto her bed next to her things. Her mind was racing with two things. First the certainty that any privacy she thought she had about her reasons for being sent to Castle Joy were as firm as a puff of smoke. It was only a matter of time before everyone knew. She did not think Dolly or Shits would actually talk… especially not Shits… but it would only be natural for the rest to try looking her up. A week at most and everyone in the tower would know; let alone the rest of the school who were probably going to be curious about the new Natural on campus. Then there was everything they might come up with in the mean time since, as they had pointed out already, she did not look like she fit in with the others.

At the same time she was trying to figure out what all that meant; her brain kept throwing up the fact that the five girls in that room were Naturals. Short Stuff was obviously a real midget, Dolly a giant, and Shits was a mute. That meant that both Tits and Al were just as real as they were, a hermaphrodite and the biggest set of milk tubs Dahlia had ever seen on a real person. Not only were they born that way, but knowing that Tits had not only gone through major surgery to keep her breasts but had also permanently tattooed her face like that just floored her. It was unbelievable and she could not imagine anyone she had ever known doing anything like it and still going out in public. The very idea kept shorting out her mind when she tried to think.

Finally one thought did get through. A seething burning thought that fed on anger deep inside her. The fact that even before she had walked through the doors of Castle Joy she had been put into a category that meant that she belonged in the Natural's tower. Being different was no crime and she certainly understood that there was nothing really wrong with the other residents. It was just that she should have had a choice and that her father had taken that away from her. Not just among the fools she was surrounded by, but also her old friends, her family, and anyone else she may have met in her entire life. Over something she knew at least a dozen girls she had known her whole life did openly with nobody batting an eyelash.

Tears falling from her eyes Dahlia suddenly felt exhausted. Emotionally. Physically. She did not even move to turn off the light before she finally succumbed to sleep. Later she would remark how odd it was when one's dreams were not half as bizarre as the actual events of the day.


	3. Chapter 3

This is a chapter from the book "Harlequin: A Fool's World Novel" By Clayton Overstreet which is being published here for promotional reasons. It is available complete from Amazon and its affiliates in book format. If you do not want to wait for me to post the next chapter, have a problem with the formatting as it appears on this website, and would like to support me so that I can have the time and money needed to write more, I strongly suggest you buy it. I do own these characters and would like to seriously profit from them. This book is however private property, I own the copyright to the story and characters, and I would appreciate it if you did not disseminate it to other people. I can't stop you, I know, but I'd really prefer if you would just buy the book, even if you read the whole story here. Legal action however will be taken for plagiarism.

 **Chapter 3**

 **Breakfast Barrage**

While Dahlia at least had options now with the money given to her by Old Man Winter it soon occurred to her that she really had nowhere else to go. Her friends could not help her if they wanted to. Her "scandal" was still too fresh in their minds and even if they did not care if they fell under it there would be plenty of people who did, many of them with cameras. If they were willing to help she was not willing to do that to them. Not so soon. Also her father would use whatever influence he had to make anyone he could suffer if they lifted so much as a finger for her. He would taint any job she might get and kicked out of any decent hotel she might try to stay in. Even if she could avoid him locating her, it would only be so long before the money ran out. In fact he was probably counting on her leaving Castle Joy and ending up on the street so she would be truly sorry for the embarrassment she caused him.

So after a good cry on her first night she decided to make the best of things. She decided to take the opportunity in front of her to at least get a feel for the school and audit a few classes. It certainly was a new experience for her and one that she probably would have gone her whole life without. Lots of them if you took her first day in the castle as an example. She may have been temporarily exempt from harassment, but that did not mean that funny things did not happen around her.

Dahlia was used to getting up very early in the mornings. Her parents often slept in, but life in a boarding school meant to raise debutants tended to horrify the average person. By five AM she was up in the cool night air, the edge of the horizon barely showing the gray light of dawn. She wore a tight exercise outfit in shades of gray as she stepped out onto the field where she had seen all the students the day before. The circus equipment had all been cleaned up, leaving a few dirt circles and a few miles of grounds around her.

"Up a little early today?' A voice asked.

Looking over her shoulder she saw Giggles. Even in the predawn light his bright outfit was clearly visible as was his huge bulk. "Actually I'm a little behind. Normally at my old school they got us up at four thirty."

"Around here you usually won't see anyone up until at least six, especially this time of years, and those are the more serious students." He went to a grassy area and unceremoniously dropped down to do push ups.

Dahlia shrugged and began her own stretches followed by dancing, flips, cartwheels, twists, and leaps that would make a gazelle jealous. As a dancer and gymnast she had her own work out routine. A lot of people were surprised when they learned that ballerinas for example often did more damage to their bodies than sports stars. There was no equipment for her to use, but she guessed that if she showed up in the official P.E. class she could find something to do and there was also time in the afternoons she could figure something out. So after only an hour she gave up on any more and decided to finish up with another hour of speed walking in one of the dirt circles.

Giggles joined her. "Considering all of that leaping around you were doing I'm surprised at you for not running." Around them now a couple dozen other students had joined them, most looking less than pleased to be up. That dedication actually impressed her a bit.

"Running too much is worse than not running at all," she responded absently. "It damages the cartilage in your knees, puts too much strain on your muscles, and the impact isn't great for bones either. A brisk walking pace is better all around."

"I know. Though that's not really an issue for me." Dahlia could hear internal motors humming just like she had the night before from Tits.

"Football injury?" She guessed.

"I wish. More like a crowbar injury. You met my sister? Well when we were young she and I lived in a pretty bad part of a large city. We wanted out, but that would take money. I ended up working for a loan shark collecting money. That left her alone and she neglected to tell me that she was being harassed by a lot of the local boys until I noticed how… angry she was. When I did find out I found most of them and beat them up. Turned out one of them was my boss's little brother. So he had my legs broken with a crowbar."

"Ouch."

"Eh, it worked out for the best. It took most of our money but I healed up and then I went after him and his guys. I got a reputation and people started calling me for revenge jobs. When a wife or kids got beat and the knights couldn't do anything, when a person had no evidence that someone was threatening or stalking someone, or anything else. They'd pay me to give a good beat down. It was good money and I was not too picky about things like who I worked for or if the person was actually guilty. My sister was my middleman arranging things." He was silent for a while. "Eventually the knights got involved, which was when I decided that if I was going to keep going I needed a fool's license.

"My sister joined me. She made it into the Natural's tower because she was mute and by the time we were done we'd both… evolved a bit. Went right back to it of course, but with a new twist. New levels of revenge. More money. I sometimes gave people pies in the face or broke legs, depending on what they did. I started operating openly since nobody could stop me. I got a little pickier about who I worked for and on. Shits started doing background checks, though she also worked a side job at a clown strip club." He saw her face. "You don't like our business model?"

"I guess it's the lack of responsibility. People should be held accountable when they do something wrong. Though at the same time I'm sure I could think of a few times when I might have been willing to hire you. At least for a pie to the face." She smiled. "Plus I guess I've always been raised to have a low opinion of strip clubs of any kind."

"Have you ever been in one?"

"No," she lied automatically.

"Then believe me, you don't have half the low opinion I do. Even the high end ones… heck sometimes especially them… get some pretty messed up people patronizing them. But we had issues. We've grown up since then and worked on things. I like to think we're better now than we were."

"I'm just not sure that people with issues like that should have a license to do anything. I'm not sure I'd trust myself with that kind of power."

"Weren't you a duchess before you came here?"

She blushed. "I just wanted to do good things in the world. Help stop wars. I know some royalty use their power to boss people around, but I…"

"Have some serious daddy issues." She looked at him and almost tripped. "You drew attention to yourself yesterday kid. Most of the staff here looked into your file. Old Man Winter filled in the blanks."

Dahlia stopped running and took a deep breath. Then without a word she turned back to the castle. Giggles watched her go, a small smile on his face.

Back in the tower she showered and changed clothes before heading to the cafeteria to get something to eat. It was after seven and while the other Natural girls had not been out exercising, clearly they liked to get to breakfast on time. When she reached the castle proper though it turned out that she was not the only one who did not show up exactly on time for the meal. She also learned how different Castle Joy was from her old schools.

Almost as soon as she was out of the door to the tower Dahlia saw a river of people in the hallways. In her boarding schools there were nuns everywhere, eyes like hawks and canes or rulers in hand just waiting for someone to step too fast. If it even looked like you were running or were going to be late they would lash out with the speed of a striking cobra.

In Castle Joy the students were all rushing everywhere. If someone got in their way they pushed them out of it. Considering how many of them were wearing oversized clothes and other costumes or carrying giant props like ladders, hammers, puppets, and balloons a lot of them were also tripping and falling all over the places knocking others over into huge piles. One pile seemed to involve a thirty foot boa constrictor and a lot of screaming girls. Yet all of them kept at it, in a sea of rainbow colored chaos. A few of the stronger or faster students managed to slide through the mess with practiced ease and Dahlia followed their example, marveling as she went at how just the sight of it all would have given the nuns panic attacks.

Actually, she thought with a smile as she bobbed and weaved through the crowded corridors, it was kind of fun.

One pair who were literally pushing their was through the crowd were a boy and a girl, their faces augmented by what had to be makeup because if either of them had really looked like that they would have been in the Naturals' towers. Their faces were moon-shaped, with huge curved noses and equally pointy chins forming a twisted crescent shape that you normally saw on wicked withes in movies and plays. The man was dressed in a red and black jester's outfit with a large hump and the girl in an old fashioned nightgown with cap, carrying a battered looking baby doll while he held a large stick. As she passed them the male tried to push her into the wall, but she slipped past and his hand hit the stone instead. He yelped and both of them glared at her as she disappeared into the crowd before they could retaliate.

Finally she reached the huge cathedral-like room that served as the cafeteria. Long tables stretched off in rows. The arched ceilings made the noise of the chattering people even louder than a room full of people normally would. At first Dahlia thought she was looking at hundreds of people with no manners. Then she noticed other things. First of all, everyone had come in their full costumes. True many of them were either in something simple, but the majority wore complicated outfits with many parts and detailed makeup. Dahlia had been less than impressed with how few people had gotten up early to exercise, but the hours it must take to apply some of their makeup and prosthetics perfectly every morning made her realized just how dedicated so many of them were to it. Also the way some of them had genetically modified themselves or like in Tits' case tattooed their makeup on suddenly made a lot more sense. One of the main reasons her school had a dress code and uniforms was because if they did not many of the girls would spend hours just applying rouge, lipstick, and mascara in the mornings, let alone picking out clothes and jewelry.

Her stomach rumbled and Dahlia decided to leave the analyzing of the various garish outfits around her for later and instead focus on getting something to eat. There was a line leading up to a dozen clowns in hair nets behind a counter handing out trays and food. Dozens more people were in the line, one balancing on a unicycle. A little nervous she joined the line. While she waited she glanced out across the room at the people who were already "eating", if you could call it that. A large portion of them were having food fights. Some of the geeks with snouts were face down in their bowls. Oddly there was an entire table of clowns dressed as bums eating with the dignity and grace of royalty at an official meeting. Admittedly they were using their shrimp forks to eat eggs and French toast, but since they were all doing it she guessed that they were doing it on purpose.

As she looked around she saw that while a lot of the students were mixed together, others like the bums had gone into groups, but it was taking her a moment to notice a pattern. The gene spliced tended to spread out based on species and whether they were predator or prey. Such changes were not quite on par with tattoos yet, but could be reversed. The process was painful both to get and remove though and most people refused to do it twice. She noticed one girl, who looked mostly human if you ignored the white bunny ears and feet, watching her. She wiggled her nose and showed off her bunny teeth and the girl turned away looking peeved. One or two had breasts as large as Tits or butts to rival them, only since they were not in the tower they must be implants. Other Geeks had things under their skin or poking through, enough metal to build a car piercing them through every angle, and every other way they could modify their bodies. Others wore the outfits of policemen, priests, politicians, cross dressers, and royalty. Three were various versions of Santa Claus. A gorgeous woman was naked from the waist up and a snake from the hips down that could have been genetic or mechanical, slithering easily across the floor. There were also a lot more Naturals scattered around, all of them male. Several dwarves, two men taller than Dolly, and she saw one man with no makeup but a six inch long nose. Female Naturals really were apparently very rare by comparison.

She gave up watching when the line finally moved. She had gone to sleep early the night before, long before dinner started. She was hungry and only too happy as the clowns behind the counter put a tray in her hands and invited her to pick and choose. She kept it simple with some sausage, eggs, milk, and a ham steak. As she stepped out of line she plopped both sausage into her mouth one after the other and ate them as fast as she could. It took the edge off of her hunger.

While chewing the last one she tried to decide where to sit. There was a table full of people who, like her, were still wearing normal clothes. They were looking around like they were both impressed and nervous. More new students she decided. Should she sit with them though? She was both in the fool program and a Natural. Trying to act like things were normal struck her as a disaster waiting to happen.

"Hey you, over here," someone cried. She turned and saw Tits McGee at a table. Her tray was balanced on her breasts while she used a knife and fork to cut her pancakes. The rest of the female Naturals were sitting with her along with some other people she did not know. Dolly was sitting on the floor so Dahlia had missed her before. They waved her over to join them.

With no better ideas she went over and found an empty seat at the edge of one of the benches set up by the tables in place of chairs. Al said, "You look nervous. Is something wrong?'

She debated what to say and finally decided on the truth. "I was warned that I should be careful around other fools. That we're all in competition and that some people will do anything to get people out of the way."

Al said, "Ah, I see. Well that depends on a few things. First of all as you were also told, you are safe from everything for two weeks. So relax. Second the competition thing is true, but not that bad."

"Or it is and we're just lulling you into a false sense of security before we strike," Short Stuff muttered around a mouth full of cereal.

Dahlia smiled kindly and said, "Short Stuff I say this with all sincerity. I've been trained to kill by warriors, knights, and assassins since I could hold a knife. I could kill everyone at this table with a plastic butter knife before the first body hit the floor. I just want to mention that so that unpleasantness is avoided and because getting blood out of clothes costs a fortune at the dry cleaner."

Short Stuff swallowed loudly and looked around the table. "Is she serious? I can't tell if she's serious or not."

After a moment of being uncertain if she had made a faux pas of some kind Dahlia was relieved to see everyone at the table put their utensils down for a moment to give her a small round of applause. She nodded her head and started eating. Al laughed and added, "It is _knife_ to know what you're capable of." Everyone groaned and someone from a nearby table hit her in the back with an orange peel. "As I was saying though, you don't have to worry too much about competing with anyone here at the moment. We all specialize in different things. It's one of the reasons we eat together."

"Specialize?"

"Well sure. You see fools can do or be anything. If you try to do everything though, it's really hard to make it work. I've heard of people driving themselves mad that way."

A Native American boy complete with fringed buck skin chaps on either side of a loin cloth, moccasins, a feathered chief's hat, war paint, and a bare chest that looked like it had been carved from muscular mahogany spoke up. He looked like a young cigar store Indian from the Old West. "How, white woman. I am the great warrior Buffalo Chips. What-um Penis Woman means is that a great warrior taught to shoot-um bow and arrow will shoot the arrow while one taught to use a gun will use a gun. Teach-um him both and take both into battle and he may hesitate. Is he a better shot with the arrow? Would he be better off using the gun which he is worse with but has more bullets? Then while the warrior decides someone who only has a gun or bow can use his hesitation to kill him." He gave this whole speech in a deep voice with a completely straight face. "Great Eagle spirit in the sky say that simplicity is wisdom."

"I see what you're saying," Dahlia said. "But you are kidding me with that cheesy accent, right? I have met Princess Rushing Water and she would slap the brown off of your face for talking like that."

Now he smiled, his bright white teeth clashing with his face. In a more normal tone he said, "She would, but in Europe they eat this Wild West Show Indian stuff up. My family has been using this shtick since you pasty bastards landed on our shores and started stealing our land."

"Really?"

"Don't feel too bad. If we had been the ones to invent guns and boats first your chubby German ancestors would have been treated way worse. As the Aztecs used to say, 'Open your heart and let the sun shine in'." He drew a vertical line with his finger over his heart. Then he held out his hand to shake. "Nice to meet you, you white devil."

Dahlia smirked and shook it back. "Likewise you ignorant savage." He made a face as if he were deeply insulted, but could not hold it and they both laughed.

Al put her arm around a second bum who was sitting next to her. As before Dahlia had been trying not to stare, but it had not been easy. He wore what looked like a waiter's uniform that had been through a shredder. Unlike Al he wore a white if somewhat stained shirt. He also had a pair of breasts, size D if she was to guess, in a lacy red bra visible through the fabric and a few strategic holes. Unlike Al the rest of him looked very much like a man. Broad shoulders, short wavy dark hair, lantern-jaw with a bit of stubble… all in all if not for the boobs and the clown makeup he looked like he should be the evil twin in a soap opera. He's painted his face royal blue with a white smile and had a big red rubber nose. On his jacket over each breast was a large flower.

"This is my boyfriend Jackie," she said. "I told you he had nicer breasts than Tits."

Dahlia paused to consider. "Less intimidating, I'll grant you." Tits grinned and gave her a wink.

"What breasts?" Jackie said with all seriousness.

Dahlia ignored this and said, "So Jackie, you and Al get along well?"

"You mean do I mind that she has a small penis? Not at all. When I was younger I took some medication that had some…" he glanced down. "Side effects. I just try to think of it as an extra large clitoris. She accepts how I am and I accept how she was born and I even put up with her puns."

"Masochist," Dolly muttered in her deep rumbling voice.

"Does that mean you're a Geek or a Natural?"

"He be a Natural," the boy sitting next to him said with a pirate accent. He wore a captain's hat with a skull on it over a red bandana and an eye patch. He also had a large gold earring, gold teeth, and tattoos on his chest. He wore a vest to show those off, though unlike Buffalo Chips he was skinny and sun burnt as if he was not used to the sun. His face was painted yellow with a big blue smile and purple around his eyes. "As are I and me mate Silence here. Yar." He slapped the older man on the other side of him on the back.

That man was another mime from the look of things. Like Shits he was in black and white, but his stripes went up and down and changed thickness in a Doppler effect. His face was painted black with white lines over his eyes and mouth, including his lips. He nodded and tipped a white beret with a black glove. "A pleasure." He could talk, but Dahlia had guessed that. What make him a Natural was that his ears were each half again as big as his face. He had painted them white to contrast with his face makeup.

"You too." She turned back to the pirate. "And your name would be?"

"They call me Long Tom," he said with a smirk. Then he slowly rose. He wore a pair of white parachute pants, but hanging down between them was a metal codpiece. As he took her hand to kiss the back Dahlia could not help noticing that as it rose it kept going until it ended below his knees. "A pleasure to meet ya, lass."

"Don't be too impressed," Tits warned. "Before he decided on this pirate outfit he just ran around naked. It took about a week before he found out what an easy target that made him and he got the cod piece. Have the scars healed yet _Bruised and Shriveled_ Tom?"

He glared at her and sat down, his codpiece clanging on the stone floor. "If I need it to shrivel all I need do is hear yer voice ye blathering sea cow!"

Trying not to giggle Dahlia looked back at Jackie. "No, since they're not implants and I didn't know this was going to happen when I took the medicine the school labeled my condition an act of God. So they made me a Natural."

She looked at the last two people at the table, a man and a woman. "So who are you?"

They two could not have been more different. The woman was a gorgeous lady of about twenty-five. She wore regular clown makeup of white with a red smile and blue around the eyes, a couple of red circles on her cheeks, and a red nose. Her hair was cotton candy-blue with white streaks and she wore a dress of peppermint red and white stripes. Her gloves were white and she wore matching red and white striped socks under floppy shoes. In a high pitched breathy voice she said, "High, I'm Bimbo. This is my husband and comedy partner, Uncle Chuckles."

Uncle Chuckles had long black hair that hung down over his face. When eh pilled it aside she saw that he had white paint with black around his eyes and lines over his lips so that he looked like a skull. His cheeks were sunken, his eyelids drooped, and his mouth was set in a depressed frown. In a slow voice that drew out eat word as if he were half asleep he said, "Hello. It's nice to… meet you… I suppose." Then he let his hair fall and hunched forward. His shirt looked like it had been made out of a burlap sack.

"Comedy partner?"

"I know… lot's of… jokes." His hair covered face rose. "What do you call… a zombie without… a car?" She shook her head. "The walking… dead." There was a chuckle from around the table.

"He is just _so_ funny," Bimbo said putting her arm around him.

Uncle Chuckles groaned and said angrily. "Get off me you leech. Every time you get near me with that dumb ass smile on your face, I want to put a scratch and sniff sticker at the bottom of a pot of oatmeal so you'll put yourself out of my misery."

"Isn't he hilarious?" Uncle Chuckles pushed her off and threw a Christmas tree ornament covered in glitter onto the table. "Ooo, sparkly!"

"I swear someone swapped her brain with a parakeet's," Uncle Chuckles said.

She looked at him. "You said the same thing when we went to that great amusement park."

"What amusement park?"

"The one with all the pretty mirrors. Oh it was so nice with that cheerful music and I could smell pretzels and I bought those nice souvenir shirts."

Uncle Chuckles banged his head on the table a few times and then said, "That wasn't an amusement park! It was the changing room at a clothing store in the mall."

"Oh!" She blinked and pursed her lips. "That explains a lot. Is that why they got so upset when I tried to ride the merry-go-round?"

"No, that was because it was for kids. One of whom you pushed out of the way so you could ride the yellow ducky."

"She wouldn't get off and let me have a turn," Bimbo whined. "I still don't see why you had to buy her ice cream and told them I had 'special needs'."

"It was that or her mother was going to have us arrested."

"If she dropped the charges why did I have to take all those hard tests?"

"Those weren't tests. It was a toy for preschoolers. And it was only hard because you kept trying to put the round peg in the square hole."

"Yeah but I did it. Boy did you look surprised."

He turned at Dahlia, sounding both shocked and a little scared. "She did! I have no idea how, but it cost me thirty dollars to replace the thing!"

Dahlia could not help bursting out laughing. "Oh god I hope you two are kidding."

Suddenly Bimbo's voice deepened and bit and she said, "Actually we are. Chuckles and I met while getting our masters degrees in clinical psychology and child psychology."

"We both have standing offers to work at several… prestigious hospitals, but found that… we also like making children laugh. So we plan to… split our time between treating children's mental disorders and doing shows for children in the pediatric wings at… various hospitals." Uncle Chuckles was back to talking slow and like he was depressed. Knowing that it was an act, Dahlia felt better.

"Wow, that is so great," she said. "Do you need a fool's license for that?"

"No," Bimbo said. "We're not in the fool program. We're just studying comedy. You don't have to be licensed to make a difference in the world."

"And neither of you are Naturals?"

"Nope," Buffalo Chips said. "Neither am I, though I am in the fool's program. You have to be if you want to work around nobles, especially if you're telling jokes. One wrong word without it and… well let's just say I had a few ancestors who found out that scalping was the easy option." He drew a line across his throat. "But don't worry, as long as you aren't a storyteller we aren't in conflict."

"You tell stories?"

"Tell them… make some up. Royals love it when they can get big chief something-or-other to end a meal with a story and a great moral, especially if it makes them and their guests laugh. I can also juggle and do a few other things, but that's my specialty. I've studied the tales of dozens of the tribes before we united them all under our king/chief. Also the dance and artwork. Usually it's shamans who do that, but they have too much pride and honor to peddle our ancient heritage to white folk for money. At least off their own lands. My family is all Lakota heyokas, sacred fools, so we can do whatever we want and it did help save us a bit of trouble in the old days. White cowboys, lawmen, and outlaws were not exactly friendly or understanding. But when they saw my great-grandfather in the old sharp shooter shows they got to see us as people."

"That's what Old Man Winter said fools were for. To do strange things to try to make people a little better." He nodded. Dahlia said. "So all of you get along because you all have different things you do." She looked at Silence. "Does that mean you have a problem with Shits?"

"No! She's my hero," he said. "Shits is the best mime ever. Have you seen her act during P.E.?"

"I just got here yesterday," she said.

"Then you are in for a treat."

She looked at Jackie. "Do you and Al come into conflict? I notice you both dress similarly."

"Not at all. Being a hobo clown is all about gentlemanly or lady-like conduct. Besides I'm an animal trainer. Al is working on joke telling mostly with a minor as a contortionist." He smiled beatifically. "Another reason I'm dating her."

"Don't get cocky. I can already get my legs behind my neck," Al said. "A few more lessons and I won't need you for _anything_."

"Hey, watch it. Being cocky is my thing," Long Tom said.

"So what do you do?" Dahlia asked.

"I'm part of a comedy team like Bimbo and Uncle Giggles." He threw his arm over the empty space on the bench next to him. Dahlia had thought it was empty because of his personality. Now he turned to thin air and said, "Isn't that right Fred?" he paused and then burst out laughing. "Aye, that be a good one."

"What did… he say?" She asked.

"He was telling me a joke that can only be heard by complete assholes. It goes like this…" He silently moved his lips a few times. A guy behind him at another table with what she hoped was a prosthetic buttocks for a forehead burst out laughing and yelled, "Good one!"

"I don't get it," Bimbo said in her ditz voice.

"I could lend Chuckles some pills to help get it up," Al said.

Long Tom said, "Are we about to have a measuring contest?"

"No!" Everyone yelled.

"Last time you and Tits almost put out my eyes," Short Stuff snapped.

Dahlia looked at Tits with a raised eyebrow. She shook her head. "My boobs versus his dick for length. I won, but only because he was too tired after looking at my boobs. Don't even ask about the pissing contest." She looked at Buffalo Chips with narrowed eyes. "I still say you cheated."

"Considering the position _you_ had to get into I was really impressed with your aim," he said.

Dahlia held up her hands. "Okay, I'm starting to appreciate serious time." She pointed at Short Stuff. "What do you do?"

She saluted and stood up on the bench like a soldier. "Ventriloquist and mimic ma'am!" Suddenly when she spoke it was in Long tom's voice. "I can perfectly imitate anyone's voice." Next she switched over to Uncle Chuckles, matching his low pace. "It really… freaks people out." Then she was using Dahlia's. "I'm still learning how to do it with a dummy and keeping my lips still."

"Impressive. Dolly, how about you?"

Dolly smiled. "I play musical instruments and dance. I'm still learning but I think seeing me playing the harp or waltzing will be entertaining. And I always dreamed of being a princess. This way I get to eat with royalty and listen to their stories and even live in a castle." She sighed dreamily.

"It's not that fun," Dahlia said. "I mean I'm sure it is for some people, but you really need to check before you hire yourself out. My father is almost never there and my mother's parties were never very lively." Suddenly they were all staring at her. "What?"

"You're a noble?" Tits asked.

"I was," she said.

"What do you mean? How can you not be a noble if you were one?"

Dahlia frowned. "Why do you ask?"

"Because I plan on becoming a noble and I do not like loop holes."

She looked at the girl over her giant breasts. "What exactly is this plan?"

"It's simple. I plan to seduce a member of the royal family, get pregnant, and have the baby."

Dahlia imagined what her father would do to any woman who tried that. Or her mother. "Uh, I should warn you that most of the nobility is not keen on sharing power. Especially with illegitimate bastard heirs. Some might go for it, but most would probably have it aborted and you executed, most likely at the same time. I'm not saying they never marry outside the bloodlines, but we… they do not like being taken advantage of."

"That's why I need my license. If I get that and make it as public as possible, they can't kill me or make me get rid of the baby. If it's public enough and as long as I don't drug them or anything, it should work." She ran her hands over the front of her breasts. "I've got great bait and I'm keeping myself pure until I can get one of them alone. I've been studying seduction, exotic dancing, and I'm majoring sleight of hand."

"Why that?"

"Well I still have to earn the license and I do like magic. Besides I want to make sure I can remove a guy's wallet, find his condoms, and poke holes in them without him noticing."

"You know sometimes the royals have some pretty nasty diseases."

"I've got a gizmo hidden in a necklace that scans for that. It sends a buzz to my earring if they have an STD."

Dahlia thought this through. It seemed like Tits had covered her bases. The morality behind the whole thing seemed questionable, but then again was it any different than her father marrying her mother for a title and her him for his money? "It's a good plan. Are you any good at magic? Seems to me that it all falls apart if you can't get the license."

"I know. I failed once already. My first year I overestimated myself and last year I backed out. This year I think I've got it." She took the tray off her chest and set it on the table. Then she reached one hand between her breasts and began to feel around. To Dahlia's shock immediately a series of noises came out of her cleavage. A startled chick (a puff of feathers shot out past her arm), a mooing cow with bell, falling crashing plates, and then a yelling voice demanding that she get out of his apartment.

While Dahlia was still slack jawed she yanked her hand free and pulled out a live rabbit. It twitched and twirled in her hand as she held it by the ears. It was not a small rabbit either, but was the size of a full grown cat. Maybe a little bigger. Then the snakes on her head began hissing and snapping at the poor creature so she stuffed it back into her breasts with another round of strange noises.

"Is that thing going to be okay in there?"

"It's not real," Short Stuff said. "It's animatronic. Her aunt knows a guy who works in movies. He provides her with sound effects too. They play with a motion sensor she activates when she puts her hand in there. There's plenty of room and it's all organized. That bit where she pretends to be looking around is just an act."

"How? I mean to keep it from falling out they'd have to squeeze together but…"

"Look under her boobs."

Tits shot her a dirty look. "Loud mouth. Stop ruining my act." Dahlia could not resist ducking down. She saw that the underside of the corset Tits wore went down to her ribs at a slant. From the look of it she could squeeze anything she could fit into a backpack in there, plus whatever she could hide in her deep cleavage. Sitting back up she saw Tits reach over and push her face back a little. "Mind your own business."

Dahlia blinked and was about to apologize when she caught a glimpse of something wrong out of the corner of her eye. Crossing her eyes she realized that without her noticing it Tits had stuck a foam nose on the end of her real nose. Soft and light she barely felt it. "Wow…"

"Tits McGee, I saw that!" An older man in a bald cap with an orange smile and rainbow plaid clothes came forward frowning and lifting his over sized shoes almost two feet up with each step. A nearly foot long purple nose trailing bubbles in the air bobbed up and down on his face. "You know the rule about messing with the new students in the first two weeks. That's a serious violation and worth a month of detention…"

Tits looked horrified, as if she was going to cry. Dahlia stood up instantly. "Sir, it's not what you think. I asked her to show me one of her tricks."

"Oh?' He looked around the table. "Is that the case?" The others all nodded.

A man's voice called out from a few tables away. "She's lying!'

"Yeah," a woman added. "She's just covering for the boob queen."

"Who asked you?" Al Smiles shouted back. She looked at the teacher-clown and said, "I swear Mr. Bubbles, Punch is just trying to start trouble."

"Anyone else see anything?" Nobody spoke up. He considered, tapping the end of his bubbling nose. Finally he said, "Very well. Since the would-be victim says that she is at fault and has several witnesses to back it up, I'll let you slide. In the future I suggest that you both inform at least one of the staff of what you are doing before you do it. Understood?"

"Yes, Mr. Bubbles," Tits said quickly. Dahlia echoed her. As he walked away she slumped forward, face down in her own chest. "Oh that was close." She looked up at Dahlia. "Thank you."

"I did kind of ask for it," Dahlia said, taking off the nose. "And it's not like I got hurt."

"Well the rules are in place for a reason." Al said, "Some fools used to eliminate the competition while they were still finding their feet. For all you knew that fake nose could have been laced with poison or something."

Dahlia looked down at the soft ball in her hand. Tits shook her head quickly, denying it. "Who was that trying to get you into trouble?"

Long Tom growled. "That jack-in-the-ass would be Punch and his sister Judy."

Al pointed across the room and Dahlia recognized the moon-faced couple that had tried shoving her in the hall. When she told them that they were not surprised. Tits said, "Punch and Judy are from an old family of fools. There's some evidence that they go back to the middle ages and were behind an old puppet show of the same name. It's the story about a man who beats his wife and throws his baby out into the streets. Then he nearly gets eaten by a crocodile and in the end gets hung. Not sure in which order."

"Sounds morbid," Dahlia said.

"You have no idea. Anyway either they were the originals or they took over the roles so long ago nobody kept records. Whatever it is they are a Tradition and a really old one. They think that makes them like royalty for fools and unfortunately their family does have enough power and connections to sort of justify that attitude. They are raised to it and taught all the old jokes. It doesn't help that their main gimmick is physical humor. Stooge stuff where they poke eyes, hit people with sticks, drop heavy objects on them, and the like. They fake it with each other, but anyone else could end up with a concussion. And they're good enough to make it look funny and like an accident so that you might never notice that their victim isn't moving until they have left the room."

"Okay they're dangerous jerks. So was that aimed against me or you?"

"Both probably. They've been here as long as I have and haven't even gone up for their licenses yet, but act like they've already got them. Our first year here Punch tried to stick his hand down my top and I broke his hand for it. When he healed up he had Judy distract me so he could grab my ass. I keep a collapsible mallet in my little bag of tricks for just such an event and I almost took his damned head off. I also got detention for knocking down a wall."

Dahlia considered that. In order to walk and move around with not just her breasts but with everything else she had in there, the girl had to be pretty strong. She had to eat her food on top of them because she could not reach around or even see past them without a lot of effort. An average woman would have an easier time stuffing two small children down her bra and feeding them caffeine pills. To tell the truth she was beginning to look forward to P.E. class just to see how Tits handled it. Seeing the girl do push-ups would be an education in itself.

Suddenly a loud bell rang. Al shouted, "Meal's over! Everybody get down!"

Around her the whole room dove under the tables, then flipped them over to form a barricade. She followed suit, unsure what else to do. It was a good thing too. The glass sneeze guards separating the cafeteria workers from the students in line dropped down and the tubs of food, mostly emptied by the hundreds of hungry students and staff, rose up and tilted forward. One of the clowns plopped a military helmet over his head and shouted, "Fire in the hole!" The remaining food shot out off the tubs propelled by compressed air, spraying across the room. Several of the students had been peeking at the time. One of them got a ham steak across the face, knocking him down. Another, one of the new kids with no makeup, was covered in creamed corn from the nose up. He was choking and sneezing it out on the floor. Behind the counter the clowns shoot hands.

"I thought the new students were supposed to be untouchable."

"Rule one around here: rules always have loopholes and can _always_ be broken. Sometimes you get in trouble for doing it, but the point is that you're supposed to remember that laws and regulations only exist in peoples' heads and aren't the same as facts." Tits said to Dahlia. "Come on, we need to get out of here before the cleaning crew shows up."

"What happens then?"

"That depends. Are you a good swimmer?" Dahlia beat her out the door.

Author's Note: It helps me know if it's worth posting more of these chapters if you review them.


	4. Chapter 4

This is a chapter from the book "Harlequin: A Fool's World Novel" By Clayton Overstreet which is being published here for promotional reasons. It is available complete from Amazon and its affiliates in book format. If you do not want to wait for me to post the next chapter, have a problem with the formatting as it appears on this website, and would like to support me so that I can have the time and money needed to write more, I strongly suggest you buy it. I do own these characters and would like to seriously profit from them. This book is however private property, I own the copyright to the story and characters, and I would appreciate it if you did not disseminate it to other people. I can't stop you, I know, but I'd really prefer if you would just buy the book, even if you read the whole story here. Legal action however will be taken for plagiarism.

 **Chapter 4**

 **Do You Have Class?**

Auditing the classes she could take was not easy. There were dozens of them and they were spread out across the castle with only four hours in a day to do them all. Unsure what to do and needing time to think she started with the closest one to the cafeteria. According to the schedules and maps it was Jibes & Insults. When she got there she intended to slip in and hide in the back of the class and plan her next move.

Instead as soon as she stepped inside an old woman wrapped in what looked like a black shroud with a green face, warts, greasy black hair, and long hooked nose was waiting like a viper in the grass. "Ah! Fresh meat! Tell me dear, are you too stupid to find your way here on time or are you just a self indulgent bitch who doesn't care enough about other people to respect a schedule?"

"I'm sorry…" She began.

"Yeah, you're sorry. Pathetic more like it. A sad excuse for a human being. Did you come in here just to take up space or are you trying to waste my time?"

"Neither. I was just…"

"Indecisive too huh? Not a single worth while quality. I don't know what you think you're doing in this school. You should see the gardener. Maybe he could use you as compost."

Dahlia was about to try apologizing again. She had gotten dressing downs from teachers before, even when she was only a minute or two late for class. Normally the only thing you could do was take it along with a punishment and try not to draw attention next time. But just as she was about to speak she heard the other students around the room giggle. They were all watching with huge grins. Even Short Stuff who she saw near the back watching with interest. Remembering the name of the class Dahlia realized that this was not her in trouble; it was her being used as an example. Clearly the teaching style in this place was "throw them into the deep end and see if they sink or swim".

Gathering up her pride and a lifetime of experience, she changed mental gears. This was not a class, it was a party and she was being insulted by a stuck up girl who technically out ranked her and was trying to make her feel inferior in public. She had been in this situation a dozen times. "I apologize, _madam_. It won't happen again." Around the room students gasped. It came in several waves as different students realized what she had done. While sounding perfectly polite, she had basically implied that the teacher, who according to the chalkboard on the wall was Mrs. Thea Mark, was a whore.

Caught off guard the woman paused, but not for long. "So you do have a tongue. I was beginning to think and hope someone had cut it out."

"No, I was just caught off guard when I saw you. You have such nice…" She made a show of looking the woman over and holding back a sneer. After a slightly too long pause she finished with, "Hair. You have okay hair."

Smirking Mrs. Mark said, "I was actually quite impressed with those buck teeth of yours. Would you mind smiling so I can check my makeup?"

"Not at all," Dahlia said with a grin. "Charity is so important when dealing with the unfortunate. And isn't it just awful when you have less than perfect features? Not that I'm telling _you_ anything. I really admire the way you soldier on despite your obvious and numerous failings. It's so inspiring, Mister Mark." She finished with a patronizing smile as if she were talking to a toddler who was trying to impress everyone with the large booger that had just been found in her nose.

"Missus," the teacher snapped.

"Really? I am genuinely surprised both that you're female and that your title implies that you somehow got married. I assumed it was just a pseudonym since there aren't that many blind and deaf men on the dating scene," she said innocently and peered around her at the chalkboard. "Oh, you're right. Terribly sorry, I had something hideously ugly in my way and the smell was making my eyes water so I misread it." She placed a hand to her face and inhaled against her palm, faking a cough. In a concerned voice she said, "You know if you want I'm sure I can find someone with no gag reflex to help hose you down and apply some delousing powder… though I'm not sure whether or not the smell is keeping the flies away or if it's just your… sparkling wit."

The teacher was grinding her teeth now, but was not out yet. "I'm sure you know a lot of people with no gag reflex."

Dahlia gasped. "So that _was_ your mother!" The classroom erupted into laughter. A few others let out sympathetic moans and a few, including Mrs. Mark herself, flinched as if Dahlia had slapped her. "Such a spry old woman. For someone without teeth she really knows how to work her mouth…"

Mrs. Mark held up black nailed green hands in surrender. "Okay, enough." With a gleam of respect in her eye she turned to the rest of the class. "What you have just seen is a perfect example of back handed insults. This is advanced technique used in situations where a direct insult can have terrible repercussions. It allows one to later claim that there was a misunderstanding or that you were just a bit thoughtless. The loser is the one who either cannot come back with another back handed insult or who loses their temper to the point where they slip into direct insults and/or physical violence. Like if I was to call her a bitch. A backhanded insult would be more like if I said how kind it was of her parents to adopt a Sasquatch as their daughter and then, out of generosity to the rest of us, shaved its ass and taught it to walk backwards to spare us actually having to see her face." She looked back at Dahlia.

"Heard that one a lot growing up did you? My guess would be from all the crypto-zoologists flocking around to take pictures of the bouncing baby… whatever you are."

The teacher took a moment to breathe through her nose. "You know, this was meant to be the 'establish my credibility' part of the class."

She shrugged. "I think I did." She did not add " _loser_ ". She did not have to. There were some more giggles around the room.

The teacher nodded. "Yes, you did. As far as I'm concerned you've passed. Now will you please leave before I really lose my temper and actually slap that smirk off your self satisfied face?"

Dahlia nodded and curtsied. She shot a wink at the rest of the room and then turned and walked out, feeling a lot better about herself. Her smile only grew as Mrs. Mark slammed the door behind her.

Since she had a free period Dahlia found a sitting room and went over the list of indoor classes she tried to decide what might be useful. A surprising number of them were actually things she knew well. As a former Duchess she had been given one of the finest educations her father's money could buy by people who could make army drill instructors cry. So she decided to ignore any classes on making props or things. Give her a few bits of electronics or a 3D printer and she could wire up just about anything. As for things like itching powder or fart gas, she could mix up such things in her sleep given even a moderate lab.

She immediately dismissed dance and music classes. That would just be an excuse to show up just about everyone else. Not that she had a problem with showing off. Taking on Mrs. Mark had been fun. She just wanted to save it for something more important. There had been a lot of events on the school calendar for the weekends including dance competitions. There was plenty of practice space in her room for that sort of thing and P.E. to keep in shape so she put those on hold until the afternoon when she could get a real sense of the classes rather than being overwhelmed by the sight of the students.

Then there were the humor classes. Despite her excellent showing in Mrs. Mark's class she was not sure she even could do direct insults. She had been raised in polite society, which meant thinking about what you said and leaving an out with even the foulest members of the royalty because even assholes could have armies. The indirect assault was risky enough and usually saved for when people just would not stop pushing. Being polite was one thing, but a risking a war was better than letting people think you were weak. A war could be won. The weak got a pack of jackals at their heels forever until one got lucky.

Learning to tell jokes sounded like it might be fun. So did the storytelling Buffalo Chips had mentioned. Dahlia just was not certain that she was comedian material. Stiff upper lip was the family watch word. Not just when things went bad, but all the time.

A voice caught her attention. She looked up and saw Old Man Winter, back in his makeup, looking at her. "Something wrong? I would have expected you to be in at least one class by now."

"I did, but was asked to leave after I embarrassed Missus Mark in front of the students."

He blinked. "Missus Thea Mark? You embarrassed her?"

"Insulted actually. She was about to strangle me where I stood before she got hold of herself, said I passed, and told me to leave."

"That… is quite impressive." He stroked his long white beard. "If you keep this up we'll run out of things to teach you."

"I'm not really sure what you can teach me." She explained her thoughts on the classes. "There are things I could learn for certain, but I'm not really sure that they are me."

"I see." He nodded his head and made sucking sounds with his lips like an old man adjusting his dentures. "Tell me; in your home I suppose you have family paintings, busts, and records. All about your ancestors and the things they've done."

"Oh yes. Ever war we've fought in, all the heroes, the scandals… I've got them all memorized."

"And I will just best that the words 'make your family proud' are etched in stone under each one."

"Essentially."

"So what you need, I think, is a role model. Someone you can identify with and set an example of how to behave. Or how not to do it." He looked her in the eyes and she saw the shine of a man in his prime or at least close to it behind his mask. "I do not want to give you a swelled head, but I must tell you that so far what I've seen has led me to feel that you have the most potential of any student we have had here in years. True you have only been here less than one day, but every time I see you, you seem to excel beyond expectations. We expect our students to come here with natural talents and as much of a standard education as possible. Many come expecting being a fool to lead to an easy life. That being free to do anything means that you are free to do anything."

She snorted. She had too much experience around aristocracy to confuse liberty with freedom. "Well they are supposed to be fools."

"That is why our school motor is 'To be truly free, a person must forge their own manacles, chains, locks, and keys before someone else does.'" He gestured for her to get up. "Follow me; I have something to show you." He led her down a hall and towards a blank space on the wall. He pushed one of the stone bricks and a piece of it swung open with a stone grinding sound. "This castle is full of hidden passages and hiding places. I don't even know all of them."

"Mine too… I mean my father's. I spent a lot of my time at home exploring them. It was the only way to get around in time to be punctual enough for his grace and to find out whether it was smart to actually appear in front of him or find a decent excuse."

"Not many of the students use them around here. The staff does though. It helps save time." He stepped through and she followed. They were suddenly in a long white hall. The secret door closed behind them. "Welcome to the Hall of Fools and Martyrs." Lined up along the walls were paintings of various clowns, mimes, jesters, and even a few people sans costume. "Some of our greatest students who really made a mark in the world."

While fools had never been a huge part of her life, a proper education in history meant that she recognized a few of them. Sometimes it was like knowing who was a king or famous war hero. Or even things from her childhood. "That one over there is Candy Cane, isn't it? She founded the amusement park Sugar World and the Candy Cartoon Studios. I used to watch those when I was a child and my nannies and tutors let me have a break from lessons."

"One of our finest artists and my great aunt," he said proudly.

"The one down there looks like Fat Fanny and that is Bean Pole. They were both spies during the revolt of 1967." She peered down further. "And that is Fancy Yancey who blew himself up next to the Washington Monument to protest the arrest of the civil rights leader Jennifer Alice."

Old Man Winter nodded. "Not everyone makes a great fool of themselves, but it's important to remember when they do." He started walking along the hall. Dahlia followed, recognizing a few more of the famous faces around her. There were plaques under them with a list of deeds in tiny letters. Some of them were failures, others heroes and a few who just got their names out there right down to fast food spokesmen. They reached a door at the end of the hallway. "Behind here is the library. There is no talking so I hope you can either use a card catalogue or your mime skills are impressive. The librarian takes pride in doing the minimum to help."

The large double doors at the end of the hall opened into a huge library with arching ceilings and seven floors that stretched up into the sky lined with book shelves. Most of the students were on the first floor using Internet computers, newspapers, and magazines. Taking notes on current events. As they passed one of the tables she glanced down at one note without staring too long and saw that the student was making fun of a King Alphonse of Carolina's chief advisor Hugo James. Something about how his very hairy ears kept him from hearing complaints. The student saw her looking and quickly covered the paper, glaring at her.

Ah, so that was it. No wonder there were TVs and radios provided in the rooms. Anyone telling jokes had to keep up with current events and breaking news. That was practically what reporters were for. Keeping up with that sort of thing and catching it before someone else was probably very important. Knowledge was power after all.

Old Man Winter led her past a large round desk where a stern looking clown-woman with a gray wig and a lot of wrinkles under her makeup sat reading _King Lear_. There was a large red button shining in the light. Above it hanging by chains was a large "NO TALKING" sign. The woman glared at her as if she was an intruder, but did not say anything. In fact it was the quietest library she had ever been in. Usually there was at least someone whispering in the stacks somewhere, but aside from the sounds of turning pages, clicking keyboards and footsteps there was not a sound. In the giant room it was kind of creepy, though the acoustics were great. If she said anything in there she would bet the librarian would hear it even from the top floor.

Old Man Winter started up a large winding staircase and as they went she saw that the usual organizing system had no place here. There were signs on each section. Animal training, parodies, joke books, dirty joke books, magic tricks, clown law, the occult, parables, history, storybooks, erotica, weapons… the subjects were widely varied, but many of them were not things she had ever seen in most libraries or book stores. Certainly not to the extent that they were collected in this library.

The headmaster stopped on the third floor and went into the stacks. Dahlia started to follow, but he came back shortly with a stack of four thick books. _A History of Fools_ , _Fools Through the Ages_ , _Clowns Through Time_ , and _The Oldest Jokes In The Book_. He handed them to her and then pointed over her shoulder. Dahlia turned to look. There was nothing there so she turned back and saw him grinning. Wincing she shook her head, unable to believe she had actually "looked over there".

Suddenly a huge alarm went off and she dropped the books to cover her ears. Dahlia started to call out, but Old Man Winter slapped a hand over her mouth. The siren faded after a moment and he pulled her over to the stairs. The librarian had left her desk and was pelting across the first floor like a marathon runner. Someone ducked into the shelves just ahead of her, but a moment later she came back holding a red wigged clown by his ear as he struggled. "Ow, you're hurting me!"

In response she lifted a bullhorn she was carrying to her lips and shouted through it, louder than the siren had been. "No talking in the library! I heard you Funny Bones."

"I laughed at a joke in a book," he said. "Barely a whisper!"

"NO TALKING!" She bellowed. "THAT'S THREE DAYS OF DETENTION AND A MONTH LONG BAN FROM THE LIBRARY. IF YOU SAY ONE MORE WORD IT WILL BE DOUBLE!"

As her words echoed around the library and everyone watched with baleful glares as their own studying had been interrupted, she dragged the boy to a door opposite the hall Dahlia had been brought through and kicked them open. Still being dragged by the ear the other clown kept his painted lips shut tight. With a flourish the librarian threw him out of the library and then shut the doors behind him.

Dahlia looked at Old Man Winter who shrugged and pointed to a far wall where another "No Talking" sign was posted. She pointed down at the librarian who was going back to her desk. He shrugged and grinned. Together they gathered up the books she had dropped and he took her down to the desk where the librarian had her sign a card inside the front of each book and stamped a return date with a loud thump. She also added a paper bookmark to the top book that warned of severe penalties for lost or damaged books. Looking at the stern woman behind the grease paint, she had no doubt that despite all the jokes around the place, this was a very serious threat.

Out in the hallway Dahlia said, "It seems like you take the rules around here pretty seriously."

"To the letter," he told her. "Have you seen the detention podium?" She shook her head. "It's just down here. Follow me."

On the way she asked, "What are these books for?"

"Just some fine examples of the fool's tradition and the results. One always needs goals and things to aspire to. What exactly is it you want?"

She started to say "nothing" but stopped herself. She wanted a lot of things. A safe place to belong, friends, love, and freedom to do what she wanted and the security to wake up in the morning without wondering where her next meal came from. She had wanted so much to make a difference in the world. "I hate to sound like my father, but I want power."

"Oh?"

"I've been raised my whole life to it. Money, position, alliances, possessions, and personal abilities. They are all about the power. The funny thing is that a lot of people when they get it do not know what to do with it. Some want it just to have it. Others want it because they are afraid or for greed. For the sadistic thrill of being able to control the lives of others or just so they can safely ignore them." She smirked. "My father equates power with status and respect."

"And you?" He asked.

"Well according to the therapist I had in my sophomore year I have deep seated issues with my parents and a need to make myself feel better by proving that I am better than them caused by a lifetime of being at their whims. In other words I've spent most of my time in a position where they control my life. I don't do what I do because I want to please them, so much as being good at what they want me to do is the easiest path to what I wanted, which was to reach the age in which I could claim my family name and be worthy of it so that I could do what I wanted with it." She looked up at the ceiling. "I suppose like most royals I considered my title to be my destiny as well as a tool to improve myself when the time came in the hopes that I would be neither as unlikable as my father or as vacuous and pointless as my mother. I care for both of them but it has been a long time since I was young enough to think they have no flaws."

"You've studied psychology, haven't you?"

"Some. People with power need to understand people. Especially your own failings." She pursed her lips. "And now that I've had everything stripped from me I need it even more."

"Do you see any failings in me?"

"My father's voice in the back of my head is telling me that just being a fool, let alone intentionally filling the world with them is a failing. I try not to listen to that. Me, I think you're a decent leader in a difficult but necessary job that promotes a hallowed tradition. You have experience that I lack and knowledge that I need if I stay here.

"On the other hand a normal person doesn't put on makeup and humiliate themselves for the entertainment of others. It speaks of a certain disregard for the opinions of others. If that was just who you were your real appearance would not be so good. Real outsiders tend to let social conventions fall to the wayside. My guess is that you're the type who was harassed for something or other growing up. I'd say that your parents were somewhat past their prime when they had you and died when you were still a teenager."

He stopped walking where he was. His voice cracked when he spoke next, not in the way an old man's would, but as someone who was holding back emotions. "How could you possibly know that?"

"Your choice to make yourself up like an old man, controlling your fear of old age and dying along with honoring your beloved parents who did their best but were too old to be like everyone else's. One of my teachers in school was Marvin Hill. He wrote a book on why people choose the names and images they do when they are talk online and how masks are more about showing your real face than hiding it. You've got a woman who either is or makes herself hideous teaching a class on insults. My RA is a mute mime who cusses whenever possible. I'm in a tower full of people who are defining their whole lives by their differences from the rest of humanity. And it all focuses on the right to do whatever you can do to smash the system. This place is a shrink's dream."

Gathering himself and capering along with a tinkle of bells Old Man Winter moved again. "So do you think that because your father has stripped you of your title and so called destiny, essentially making everything you've done to attain it, that you have nothing left to aim for?"

"Maybe," she admitted.

"Has it occurred to you that what you did that lost you your place and landed you here might be your actual destiny? It makes everything else fall apart, leaving you nothing else and defining you."

"I don't want to be just one thing," she said. "Defined by one part of myself."

"Specializing is not the same as having one trick. Warriors sometimes become kings and politicians. Thieves sometimes become security consultants. Fools can die foolish or become wise. People major in things at school becoming a lawyer or a surgeon but rarely both, because spreading yourself too thin is a good way to break. I've seen students who tried to do everything drive themselves mad, kill themselves, lose sight of their goals, or get so busy they miss the hazards in their way." He placed a hand on her shoulder. "This is not alchemy where we try to turn lead into gold. We're just taking gold and making it into something, be it a statue, jewelry, money, or a part that lets a computer work. Whatever it becomes you take it for what it is and because it is rare and precious you try to make it the best that it can be." They turned a corner while she considered that and he added wickedly, "Of course a bit of smelting doesn't hurt." He cackled loud and long.

They were in another hallway, this one lined with a long raised wooden stage along the length of each side with a set of stocks every few feet. Roughly a dozen of them currently occupied. They were padded and had stools. What they did not have was any way to leave to go to the bathroom, a fact verified by the smell. Fortunately there were a lot of windows that provided the only air conditioning in that part of the castle. Dahlia guessed this was the part furthest from the P.E. field and the parking lot. Maybe where the gardeners kept that compost heap Missus Mark had mentioned.

In front of the stage was a trough full of rotten vegetables. Nobody was there at the moment, but the faces of the detainees were splattered with it. In addition there were some padded paddles hanging up on the walls behind them. "See, this is why it's nice to have power."

"You don't have a problem with this?" Old Man Winter asked. "A lot of students complain that it's medieval and unfair."

"It is," one piped up. He picked up a rotten tomato and hit the kid in the face with it. "This is cruel."

Dahlia rolled her eyes. "My father's job includes punishing criminals. We have an actual dungeon and torture chamber. I have spent my whole life in schools that still believe a good beating keeps kids on the right path. Forgive me if I have little sympathy for a little light humiliation and discomfort. I personally would not like to be put in one of these things, but I would not be surprised or call it unfair if I knowingly broke the school rules, especially after you give us two weeks to get used to it. My first school beating included having to write a five page essay on why 'ignorance of the rules is no excuse'." She frowned, remembering. "Actually there never was an acceptable excuse for anything."

"That's one of the best parts of being a fool," he told her. "We don't need excuses or even reason."

After putting the books away in her room Dahlia went to lunch. The cafeteria looked remarkably clean considering the last time she had seen it. Aside from that it was no different than breakfast. Not all of her new friends were there this time, possibly sitting somewhere else or skipping lunch entirely. The girls from the tower were together though and even Shits was sitting with them this time. It was pizza day and after she got a few slices Dahlia joined them at their table. As soon as she got close there came a wave of questions. Everyone wanted to know about what had happened in the insult class. Apparently Short Stuff had been telling them all about it.

"What was I supposed to do?" She asked. "Did I make a mistake?"

"No, you were awesome," the tiny girl said.

Tits said, "Missus Mark loves picking on Naturals because she's one. You saw her nose, right? Her childhood must have been miserable. My first day in class she made me cry in the first five minutes."

"I had to quit," Dolly said.

"The woman loves her work," Al said. "I stayed because I made her really uncomfortable. Especially when I sat with my legs spread and scratched my balls."

Shits held up a card. YOU'RE ALL WIMPS, BUT YEAH; IT WAS GOOD TO HEAR THAT BITCH GOT A LITTLE IN RETURN. Dahlia got the feeling that Shits had been on the receiving end of Mark's insults too. It clearly had not done much for her disposition.

After lunch and a near decapitation by bread stick the whole school filed out to the field Dahlia had seen the day before. Their teachers were waiting for them. Dahlia froze at one point and stared. A middle aged blond with no costume was gathering a crowd. "Oh my gods! I don't believe it!"

"What?" Tits asked.

"That's Sally Cross! She's a teacher here?"

"Yeah, she's in charge of teaching people to do stunts like in the movies. She retired from acting three years ago…"

"After she finished filming the last Hannah Jinx movie _Born To Floor It_! She did all her own stunts until she tore her Achilles' tendon flipping a jeep." The woman was in her early forties, though she looked more like her early thirties. Some said it was her health regimen. Others that she had some work done. "She's my favorite actress ever and she always did her own stunts. I have had a huge crush on her since I was twelve! I can't believe she's here! If I'd known I would have given up my title and enrolled here myself! Gods I hope I don't geek out and ask if I can show her my Hannah Jinx fan fiction." Starry eyed she hurried forward, not even noticing the shocked look on Tits' face.

For the next two hours Dahlia listened to everything Sally said. It turned out that what she was teaching was a beginner class on intentionally falling while still not getting hurt. They would get more complicated later, she said, but the basics were important. She even had a spare pair of one-size-fits-all clown shoes that she lent to Dahlia because none of the other new students had joined her group. It was actually pretty hard, though Dahlia had an edge thanks to her martial arts training. Unlike in those physical classes it was not supposed to look smooth. They key was to make it look like you were tripping over your own feet or even hitting the ground hard while at the same time landing in a way that meant you were both fine and able to move swiftly. Dahlia failed on her first three tries on the big soft mat that had been set up because she kept coming up in a perfect defensive martial arts stance.

On her last try through Sally was giving her instructions and it was a hot day so the still gorgeous star had stripped out of her shirt and was only in a tank top. Dahlia spaced out and tripped on the edge of the mat and without thinking twisted around towards Sally who caught Dahlia in her arms and held her as if they were on the cover of a romance novel. Unable to think of anything else as she was pressed against the older woman with both their hearts beating fast from the sudden surprise she gasped out, "My hero."

Sally smiled down at her and helped her to her feet. "Your Kung-Fool is strong. That was pretty good. Just watch the dismount. If I had not caught you, you might have twisted your ankle." She patted Dahlia on the shoulder and then turned back to the class. "Did everyone see that? Especially the adlibbing at the end there. Who is next?"

It was sad for her when the class finally ended, but Sally said that anyone doing stunts should always be at their best and after two hours it was time to rest. So they finally broke up and determined not to be a stalker Dahlia let her walk away despite the urge to clamp onto her leg like a police tire boot and never let go. Still walking on air she meandered around the field some more until a voice called out, "Excuse me miss, could you help me on with this straight jacket?"

Dahlia looked around and saw a man in top hat and tails. Unlike the bums his clothes were immaculate. His only face was a thin moustache and two large eyebrows painted on his face. He was holding a straight jacket along with some chains and locks. With nothing better to do she went over to help him. He handed her a key ring and then slid his arms into the jacket while she followed his directions to adjust the straps. Then she wrapped him tightly in chains before clicking the locks into place. "Who are you?" She asked conversationally.

In a fake Italian accent he said, "I am the great escape artists Georgiou The Magnificent!" He raised his arms and the jacket and chains fell off like the petals of a flower. He took a bow and Dahlia politely applauded.

She looked around. "Shouldn't you have a class around here?'

He shrugged. "I'm afraid I often attract a large class early, but as it goes on most drop out because someone gets hurt or they find they have to do something uncomfortable. This year things are already slow."

"Do you also teach the sleight of hand class? A friend of mine takes that."

Picking his things up said, "I'm afraid not. That would be Fantastic Fiona. While sleight of hand and concealment are definitely part of my curriculum it is _slightly_ different."

Dahlia looked around. There was horse riding, which she was familiar with. The trapeze was barely different from ballet with just a little farther to fall. Juggling she was pretty sure she could practice herself. Animal training would be a little involved and she already had that down anyway from training her hounds and horses at home. "Can I take your class? I mean I'm really enjoying my class with Sally… uh… Ms. Cross… but I've got an hour of P.E. free after."

Georgiou smiled condescendingly. "I'm afraid that being an escape artist requires a little more than an hour of practice a day. There is great pain involved as you learn to dislocate your joints, stretch your muscles, and learn how to conceal tools about your person."

"I can do it," she insisted. "If you tell me what to do I can practice in my free time."

He was about to deny her, she could tell, when he suddenly blinked. "Weren't you the girl on the high wire yesterday?" She nodded. "How did you do that?"

"Fifteen years of private tutoring in dance, gymnastics, martial arts, sword fighting, sports, debutant training, and everything else my father could find the time to force me to excel in."

He was silent for a moment. "How are you at handling pain?'

She considered and then turned her back on him to show it off. He inhaled a bit when he saw the stripe-like scars crossing her back. "In my school they only hit you really hard where it did not show under the clothes, though that deep purple one really split the skin and I was doing my homework from a hospital bed because the nun got carried away and cracked a rib."

"Some of these look fresh."

"Oh the little red ones? That's from my father's belt buckle a little over a month ago. He was angry but he never had the experience. Normally he just _has_ people beaten." She lowered her shirt and turned around. "It's been a long time since I've had a real beating. They stop doing it when you do not make mistakes. I've been hurt worse at dance lessons. Dancers take a lot of damage."

"This I know. Did you ever consider complaining to the authorities?"

"My father _is_ the authorities. He gave them permission to beat me as they deemed needed. Complaining would have just gotten me hit more. "

"Ah." He walked around her, looking her over now. "I suppose I could giver your idea a try. I warn you, if you give me any reason to believe you are not practicing or otherwise not taking my lessons seriously, I will drop you immediately. If I wish to waste my time I can do it practicing rather than trying to teach my secrets to someone who treats it as a game. My lessons will tax your body in ways that none of the other classes will."

She stood up straight. "Sir, I do not take on obligations I do not intend to take seriously. To tell the truth looking around I'm kind of hoping for something challenging. Confidentially I was intentionally making my walk across that high wire look a lot harder than it was."

"Well then my young fool let us see if you are telling the truth or merely bragging." He sat down cross legged on the grass and nodded for her to join him. She did, watching him intently. "We will begin with the finger exercises…"


End file.
